


Exit Wounds

by PCrabapple



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Blackmail, Blood, Cocaine, Daddy Kink, Death, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Fingering, Frottage, Gun Violence, Guns, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Name Calling, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Off-Screen Murder, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Slavery, Sex Trafficking, Sexual Abuse, Slut Shaming, Spanking, Stitches, Victim Blaming, Vomiting, Wounds, underage (17)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:38:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PCrabapple/pseuds/PCrabapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro enters a den of iniquity and buys six hours of Karkat's time. He's going to need all of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings. This fic contains drug use and sex slavery.
> 
> I posted this last weekend under a different name and in a rougher form. It's been edited now and is ready for me to continue. 
> 
> This is a scenario I've been kicking around for a long time, trying it out in RP with little success. I decided it might fare better as a story, so here we are.
> 
> I'm not sure I'm any good at writing Karkat, and you may notice that my Bro is never the same between stories. But I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Oh, one more thing, I have no direct experience with drug use, sex slavery, or this level of abuse, so it is by no means an accurate representation and I am always accepting criticism.

Broderick stepped out of the back of the dark sedan, shined black shoes crunching on dusty white gravel. He ran the back of his hand over his nose as he looked up at the building he’d arrived at. It was nothing much to look at; a low two stories, probably an old hotel. Bars on the windows. There was a single yellow light casting a dim glow over the heavy front door. The only sound was the clicking of the car’s engine cooling down and the chirping of a thousand crickets in the isolated clearing. 

It looked like a total dump, but Bro had been assured that this was the place to find what he was looking for. He leaned down to look at the driver, a troll with a broken horn and a really ugly smile. “Keep it here, might be awhile,” he said, and then slammed the door shut. 

He could feel his jaw clenching up as he listened to his footsteps approaching the entrance. He made an effort to relax, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have done that last bit of coke. There was a fine line between that feeling of invincible supremacy and that feeling of being a total paranoid wreck. On the other hand, walking that line might serve him well in a place like this.

He stopped in front of the door and knocked, the metallic thunk resounding in the quiet night. A slat in the door slid aside, grinding against its frame, and a pair of yellow eyes glared out at him. 

“Who sent you?” the troll asked. 

“The host sent me,” Bro replied, giving the password he’d been supplied. The eyes narrowed and the little window shut, but Bro could hear locks being disengaged on the other side. He counted them as he straightened his orange tie, his fingers moving restlessly over the silk. Five, six locks. No doubt a few meant to keep people in rather than keep them out. 

The door creaked open and a heavy-set troll stood aside to let him in, looking him up and down with a suspicious gaze. Bro stepped in and stood in a small anteroom. There was a fluorescent light humming and flickering on the ceiling above. The floor was hard concrete. Another troll was waiting for him, wearing latex gloves and ready to give him a pat-down.

“Watch the suit,” Bro growled, wary of those sharp claws running up his inseam. The troll gave him a look that told him his claws could ruin a hell of a lot more than an expensive pair of slacks.

They found the handgun in his under-arm holster, but didn’t seem phased. They either didn’t find the small bag of cocaine in his inner jacket pocket or didn’t care. They were probably used to types like his coming in here; suits and money, drugs and guns. 

His gun and phone were confiscated, and Bro watched them stowed away in what looked like a heavily-secured cloak room. He was told he could have them back upon his departure. It was annoying, but he supposed he couldn’t expect any less. 

A muscular human male with a shaved head opened the other door of the anteroom and led him through to a low-lit room carpeted in ugly red shag. It consisted of a sitting area with a few beat-up looking couches and a low platform made of plywood in the center of the floor.

“It’s fifty dollars up front to see the merchandise,” the man said, rattling off rules like he’d said them a hundred times, “And if you want one it’s three hundred dollars an hour. No multiples.” Bro had a feeling that was a loosely enforced policy that could be plied with the application of a lot more money. These sorts of places always had loopholes. “You can touch them, but don’t whip your dick out or anything till you’ve paid and you’re in your room. You can do whatever you want, but don’t draw any blood. There are condoms and lube in the rooms. Use ‘em. If you don’t and you show your face around here again you’ll find yourself in a bad situation. Got it?”

Bro nodded, scanning the room from behind his shades. There was a meagerly-stocked bar next to a door in the corner, and a staircase that probably led to the bedrooms. He turned back to the man, who was standing next to him with his hand out, expectant.

Bro pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and thumbed out a fifty-dollar bill. He gave it to the guy, who immediately closed his fist around it and went to the door in the corner and opened it. “Line up!” he shouted and then stood back.

Bro really didn’t want to sit on one of these suspect couches, so he stood somewhat awkwardly in front of the platform. His finger fidgeted around the money in his pocket. The platform took the function of a small, sad stage as a dozen or so young humans and trolls filed up onto it.

He’d been to legal brothels before, and while the same basic principle of the lineup held true, this one was markedly different. None of them looked like they were a day over 21, and a few looked like they were only a few years into their teens. There were no sexy smiles, no come-hither eye-fluttering, no risque outfits.

Each boy or girl wore plain underwear and a thick black leather collar around their neck. Some of them gazed at the floor, others looked at him with weak, nervous smiles, and still others looked absolutely terrified. There was a definite flinching from a few as he took a step forward towards the stage.

Bro glanced at the man, who seemed to be some sort of handler. The handler gave him a nod. Bro stepped up onto the stage and began to inspect each boy and girl. He’d been told he could touch so he did, running his hands over chests, backs, crotches and asses. He kept his eyes on their faces though, tilting their chins up if they were looking down.

He spent a good while fondling an olive skinned boy with a fine ass, imagining sliding his cock between his cheeks. But he was distracted, looking at the next in his peripheral; a short troll who had caught his eye the moment he’d stepped through the door. 

He was probably 17 years old, however many sweeps that was, with red eyes and dark circles underneath. His horns were some of the smallest Bro had ever seen, blunt tips. He had a supremely uncomfortable expression and a wary, guarded demeanor when Bro approached. As Bro put a hand on his shoulder he could feel the muscles twitch beneath his grey skin. He gave an intense glare of loathing as Bro skirted his fingers across his chest, down around to squeeze his rump. The troll growled, and it turned into a sort of whimper when Bro moved around to cup his bulge. 

He could see the young troll’s fingers itching to protect himself, to claw Bro’s face off, but he restrained himself. Probably thanks to strict conditioning. Bro moved a hand up to the back of his head, pushing his fingers through the messy black locks and letting his fingers brush the base of his horns. The troll shuddered. Bro fisted his hand to force him to look up.

“What’s your name?” he asked. The troll looked at him with unparalleled hatred.

“Karkat,” he said in a hoarse voice. Bro looked at him for a few more moments and then glanced at the last few in line he hadn’t looked at yet. He turned back to Karkat, keeping his face impassive and trying to still his fingers from twitching like they wanted to.

He pulled his hands away and looked to the handler. “This one,” he said, pointing to Karkat. 

The handler stepped on stage, and all the other kids subtly shuffled back a few steps away from him. “That one likes to bite,” he said, taking a short leather lead out of his pocket, “Just give him a good smack if he gives you trouble.” He clipped the lead to Karkat, who was baring his teeth, clearly in the middle of a fight-or-flight internal struggle that was likely to go nowhere.

The handler held onto the lead and gave Bro another expectant look, his eyebrows raised. Bro pulled out his billfold and counted out eighteen-hundred dollars, enough for six hours of Karkat’s time. He’d need it all. 

\-----------

Six hours? Karkat had counted along silently with the man who had bought him as he’d laid out all that cash. What the hell were they going to do for six fucking hours? In all his time in this hellhole, the johns rarely bought more than two hours. If they did, it was usually because they wanted to do something fucked up. Or else they wanted to talk. And this guy didn’t look like the talking type.

He was extremely tall, and Karkat could feel the strength that lurked beneath the fancy tailored suit he wore. He was probably a hitman, or a mob boss, or a druglord, or just a really rich asshole who liked fucking kids. At least he wasn’t bad looking, with that impeccably styled blonde hair and sharp features. Karkat had to reprimand himself for even thinking that. They were all shitty assholes, no matter how good they looked.

Everything about the other man seemed tightly coiled, ready to spring into some kind of violent episode. But also heavily controlled. He was probably a real psychopath. The way he moved Karkat was fairly sure he was on something. He seemed to carry it well, though. He wasn’t babbling like a lunatic or fidgeting uncontrollably. He could feel a slight tremor when he’d been gripping his hair, but otherwise he looked totally in command.. 

Karkat had been at this against his will for almost a year now, but it never got any better. There was always the terrible uncertainty of a new client, the fear of what they might do to him or make him do. At least he no longer had the false hope that he might get out of here sometime soon. From what he could tell it was either wait till some obscenely rich pervert bought him to be a personal fucktoy, or wait till he got too old and was taken off the lineup, probably left for a dead in a ditch somewhere. Karkat was starting to think he’d prefer the latter.

The bald asshole trainer exchanged Karkat’s lead for the money, counting the cash again again. Yeah, six whole hours. He nodded and gave the client a room key. “Enjoy,” the trainer said as the client tugged Karkat by the strip of leather, leading him off the stage.

They all used the lead. Couldn’t trust him to just fucking walk next to them. As if Karkat wouldn’t be immediately beaten to a pulp if he tried to make a run for it. Maybe they just liked the novelty of leading around another intelligent being like a goddamn animal. 

He didn’t give Karkat much slack as he led him upstairs, and Karkat struggled to keep from tripping over himself as he climbed behind him. What he wouldn’t give to rip this motherfucker’s throat out, see that blank, calm face contorted in pain as he struggled wetly for his last breath. 

And then what? The guards would find him, break his arms, clip his claws, put a muzzle on him, sell him as some kind of dangerous fetish item to someone even more fucked up. They weren’t going to lose the money they could make on him just because he killed a client. Still, Karkat entertained these gory possibilities with every one.

“They got cameras or microphones in the rooms?” the client asked, pulling Karkat out of his doomed, bloody fantasy. “I wanna know if I’m gonna be doing exhibitionism.” His buttoned-up, business-like nature seemed to have dropped a little as he matched the key with the correct door and fumbled to slide it into the lock. 

When Karkat didn’t answer fast enough, the man gave his lead a sharp tug. “I asked you a question.”

Karkat grabbed the lead with a hand and pulled back on it irritably. He could be beaten weekly for a year, but he still couldn’t control these little outbursts of defiance. “Yes, fuck. You think they’re not gonna check up on you to make sure you’re not killing the merchandise?”

The client leveled his gaze at him, not at all impressed by his answer or the accompanying behavior. Karkat got that familiar sick feeling in his stomach that told him he’d fucked up and he was going to be punished for it. But the client just nodded and turned the key in the lock, pushing the door open and pulling Karkat through.

Karkat knew this room. It was just like all the others; a large bed with dark, stained sheets, a rickety night-stand with a few drawers and a flickery lamp, and a small attached bathroom with a shower and toilet. This room had one interesting difference, though. There was a large yellow-brown stain on the ceiling. Karkat had spent cumulative hours staring up at it while sweaty men did whatever they wanted to his body above him. “Interesting” may have been a stretch, but Karkat would take what he could get to keep from having to think about what was going on. The stain looked a little bigger since last time he’d been here, not a surprise since it had rained recently. 

The sound of sharp inhalation brought Karkat once again out of his mental vacation. He looked over to see the client sitting on the bed, leaning over the nightstand and snorting up one of three white lines laid out on the surface through a rolled up bill. So he’d been right about the drugs. That meant volatile, unpredictable. He was already unpredictable enough what with the shades, couldn’t tell where he was looking. Karkat would have to watch himself. 

The man grunted softly as he rubbed his nose, seeming to be somewhere else for a moment, then turned to Karkat. “Want some?” he asked with a small, tight grin. 

“No...thanks,” Karkat replied, staying where he was beside the door. If he had offered something else, a tranquilizer or some other downer, Karkat would have gladly accepted. But in his experience cocaine made everything a lot sharper and more crystallized. That was the last thing he wanted.

The client shrugged, and laid the rolled up money down next to the remaining lines, careful not to disturb them, the looked at Karkat, his fingers fidgeting on the bedspread. “Come here,” he said, and began undoing his tie.

Karkat made his way over, the lump in his throat growing with every step, while the client kept talking. “You can call me Broderick, or Bro.” He gave another grin that looked unnatural, suggesting a numbness in his face from the coke, “Or Daddy if you like.”

“Thanks for the option,” Karkat grumbled as he came to a stop in front of the man, Broderick. What a dumb fucking name. Rich asshole with a stupid, pretentious name. Probably had a bunch of middle names and numbers after it too. Broderick Nookdrag Bulgesuckington the Eighth or something.

“You misbehave a lot, huh?” Bro asked as he took his jacket off and hung it on the bedpost. He had a black gun holster underneath the jacket, over the white dress shirt. That pretty much confirmed Karkat's suspicions. He was some kind of criminal, mafia probably. Bro tilted his head, clearly looking over the various scars Karkat had collected on his body from behind those stupid fucking shades. 

“Depends what you call misbehaving,” Karkat said, glaring at Bro. Sometimes, yes he was disobeying orders. But other times he just got stuck with a client who liked to beat the shit out of him for no goddamn reason other than they were a messed up son of a bitch. He knew he was toeing the line with this one, risking yet another beating. It just felt too good to talk back, to feel like he still had some agency in his life. 

“You’ve been a dirty little slut,” Bro said, running his hands over Karkat’s scars, feeling them with his fingers as he made his way towards his backside again. Karkat’s skin crawled at the contact, a response he wished he could get over because it happened every time and it was getting old. “Clearly haven’t learned your lesson.”

He was one of those then, the fuckers who just liked to hit him because they thought it was fun, and liked to use an asinine pretense to justify it to themselves. It was best to just play along in these situations, minimize the damage. The restraint it took to keep from rolling his eyes made him feel sick as he said, “Yes, Daddy,” and followed Bro’s hand’s coaxing him to bend over across his lap.

\-----

“I bet you like it, don’t you? Like being fucked by everyone and anyone. Filthy whore,” Bro said, his tongue running over his teeth as he felt Karkat’s ass. He didn’t usually talk like this, but when he was high it was hard to resist just letting his mouth run, saying every awful thing that came across his brain. 

He could tell the troll wasn’t on board. He was tense under him, muscles tight, braced for anything. Bro licked his lips as he looked down at that scarred back. Weren’t they not supposed to have blood drawn? Must have been one of those money-lubricated loopholes. 

He smoothed his hand over the thin cotton covering Karkat’s backside, glancing at his expensive-looking watch. Six hours. Plenty of time. 

He suddenly stopped, feeling a frisson of paranoia run down his back. He glanced around the room, looking for those cameras and microphones Karkat had confirmed. He spotted a small one in the corner near the ceiling, painted the same greyish white as the walls except for the black eye of the lens. Enjoy the show, you fuckers, he thought as he brought his hand down on Karkat’s ass.

A small whimpering noise came from Karkat, more surprise than pain. Bro took his watch off, placing it on the nightstand, far away from the other two lines of coke, then returned his focus to the troll. “You like that, huh?” he said, caressing the place he’d just struck. “You like it when Daddy shows you how bad you are?” If he heard himself talking like this under normal circumstances he’d be embarrassed. But it was only a matter of time until he was far away from here and he would never see Karkat again. Until then, he was free to do whatever he wanted. As long as it didn’t draw blood and got the job done. 

“Y-yes,” Karkat replied, his voice strained. Bro knew he was lying, but he was good at compartmentalizing, at deluding himself in situations like this. Karkat did this day in and out. What was one more? 

He smacked Karkat again, harder this time. The sting of the impact traveled through the muscles of his palm. It felt good to affect something like this, to directly and physically have an impact. This was exactly what he needed. He spent too much time talking, watching his words, sitting in cars and waiting. It was like he could feel the stress of working flowing out of his hand and into the perky little troll ass underneath him. 

Every noise, every muscle spasm from the kid made him feel like he was blocking out the reality of the real world.

He was getting hard underneath the young troll as he gave him a few more spankings, and he pushed Karkat’s hips down to grind against his bulge. Karkat gasped and he smacked him again. “I told you you liked it,” he said low, “You’re such a slut. I bet you want Daddy to fuck you, huh?” Karkat’s whole body shook, revulsion that Bro convinced himself just for the moment was arousal. 

“Please…” Karkat said, not an ounce of feeling in his voice.

Bro pulled the troll’s underwear off and slipped his fingers between the cheeks to feel his nook. It was already moist, likely a conditioned response. Bro was willing to take it as a green light, and pushed his fingers inside, scissoring and opening him up. 

Karkat squirmed and whimpered, clawing at the bedspread. Bro moved his other hand to caress Karkat’s neck, his jaw. He ran a finger over his chapped bottom lip, slipping in to feel those sharp teeth. He’d always had a certain fascination with trolls. Stereotypes painted them as dangerous and feral, and while Bro knew that wasn’t necessarily a blanket rule, he found it exciting, all those sharp points. It certainly made blowjobs more thrilling. 

Karkat’s teeth dug into his skin, a clear strong desire driving him to bite down, a year of conditioning telling him not to if he valued his health. Bro appreciated that, let Karkat gnaw gently on him without recourse as he fingered him.

Bro checked his watch on the nightstand. Five and three-quarter hours left. He was doing just fine, despite the weak alarm going off in his brain. It was just the coke making him worry. He was fine. But maybe he should get this show on the road. He pulled his fingers out of Karkat with a quick squelch, smirking at the gasp Karkat emitted. 

“Get me a condom and some lube,” he said, nudging Karkat off his lap. He undid his belt and fly, sitting back against the headboard. He pulled his cock out of his underwear, stroking himself as he watched Karkat on all fours on the bed, digging in the nightstand drawer to get the necessary items. Bro’s gaze drifted to the remaining lines of coke, wanting another one. But it would take him forever to come if he had too much. He could resist for now.

Karkat returned with the condom and a tube of lubrication, his eyes going immediately to Bro’s exposed erection. Bro couldn’t help but hope the troll was marvelling at its size. He could be the most sophisticated guy in the world, but there was little more that was so self-affirming than knowing he had a bigger dick than most guys.

“Put the condom on,” he ordered, taking his hand away to give Karkat room. He watched those claws handle the latex carefully, knowing that Karkat would likely rip his dick off if he could, those sharp little fingers begging to punish Bro for putting him through this. But he showed incredible control in gently placing the condom on the tip and rolling it down over Bro’s cock, even mostly masking his disgust. 

“Face that way, hands and knees,” Bro said, directing Karkat to turn his back to him and bend over. The troll complied, resigned to his fate. Bro chewed on his tongue as he admired the grey skin moving over bones and muscles, the reddened flush of his abused rump, getting into place for him. He sat up on his knees, taking Karkat’s backside in both hands and pressing his thumbs in to spread him open. 

Karkat tensed as he nudged the head of his cock against his nook, which was leaking an almost disturbingly red-tinted fluid. Bro gripped Karkat tightly as he began to push in, unable to hold in his groan at the wet tightness that quickly enveloped him. God damn, for a whore he was still tight, probably due to his tense nature. It made for a good hole, and Bro sank himself in as far as he could. 

“Gh-” Karkat was clawing at the bedsheets, fisting his hands over and over again. He pulled away but Bro held him back, keeping him in place.

“Shh, I got you,” Bro said, leaning over Karkat’s back, though he had no real desire for Karkat to be quiet. He licked his shoulder, then bit at the skin, wanting to leave a mark like those others on the troll’s body.

“Hnnngh,” Karkat’s strained voice turned Bro on even more. Fuck yes, he could feel all the stress of work leaving him. He could forget all the bullshit, all the wasted time. Nothing existed but him fucking Karkat right now.

He started to move his hips, slow at first and then quickly gaining speed, With each thrust Karkat got louder, moaning in pain and then in pleasure as Bro fondled his now-unsheathed bulge. It quickly wrapped around his hand, entwining with his fingers as it found the stimulation it was looking for. 

“Say ‘fuck me, Daddy,’” Bro instructed, his own voice clipped and strained as he worked his cock in and out of Karkat.

“F-...Fuck me...Daddy!” Karkat cried out, moving back against him now, seeking the fullness he’d been retreating from just a few minutes ago.

“That’s it,” Bro said, pressing his chest to Karkat’s back, hand on his chin and fingers in his mouth again. Karkat bit down harder this time, but Bro didn’t mind. His cock throbbed inside Karkat, and he knew he was going to come soon.

Instinct took over him, driving him wild, thrusting with abandon. He bit down on Karkat’s shoulder harder, holding Karkat’s hip tight against him every time he buried himself in that incredible nook. Fuck, it was good.

“Mmf!” he grunted as his orgasm hit him, spilling out into the condom. His muscles relaxed, unspooling from their too-tight tension. Coke was good, but nothing quite compared to this feeling. 

He sighed, shutting his eyes and lazily slathering his tongue over the bitemarks. He kept himself inside Karkat as he squeezed and stroked his bulge, pulling his cock out only when he sensed the troll was close. 

Karkat gave a pathetic little whimper as Bro felt him soaking his hand in genetic fluid. Karkat’s body shook under him and collapsed on the bed.

Bro disentangled himself from the heap and leaned against the backboard again, enjoying the afterglow for as long as he could. He wiped his dirty hand on the bedspread and used the other one to dig a lighter and pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He pulled one out with his teeth and lit it, inhaling deeply.

“Want one?” he asked Karkat. The troll shook his head. Bro put the pack back into his jacket and let out a stream of smoke upwards. He spent a moment staring at the large stain that was on the ceiling, his brain slowly gathering itself into functionality again. 

It never lasted long enough. The comedown wasn’t as bad as cocaine’s, but in some ways it was worse. There was a hell of a lot more guilt, the feeling that he’d made a huge mistake. Bro zipped his pants up and slid off the bed. He walked over to the window, taking another drag of his cigarette. He slid a finger between the blinds and lifted them to peer through. Bars beyond the glass. If he squinted he could see the outline of the car waiting in the dark parking lot.

He tapped his cigarette, ashing it onto the windowsill. The real world was starting to pour back in. Deal, payment, delivery. He looked to the bed, where Karkat was curled up in his own genetic mess. Yeah, he’d definitely made a mistake. 

Oh well, nothing he could do now except fix it. Bro strode back over to the bed and sat on the edge near Karkat. He checked his watch again. Five hours, thirteen minutes. Bro took another long drag and exhaled up towards that ominous stain. He could feel the camera behind him, felt like its lens was boring into the back of his skull. 

With that in mind he leaned down over Karkat, holding the cigarette out of the way and putting his nose against his temple, his lips against his ear. It would look like an affectionate nuzzle to anyone watching.

He spoke just above a whisper. “You’re Karkat Vantas, right?” he asked, then shifted to watch the younger man’s reaction.

\-------

The fucker hadn’t even let him look up at the ceiling. He’d put him on his hands and knees, made him stare at the door, at the edge of the bed while he got fucked, forced to come, made him want it, feel dirtier than he already did. He was lapsing into another homicidal fantasy when Bro came back, sat next to him, put his gross smokey mouth up against his head.

“You’re Karkat Vantas, right?” Karkat froze, his muscles locking up at the mention of his name. His real name that he hadn’t heard in a year. His stomach did a flip; fear, uncertainty, the gall to hope. Someone knew him, someone knew he had a family, that he had a name outside this shithole.

He turned to look up at Bro cautiously, his eyes still moist from getting fucked so roughly by the man who knew his whole name. He swallowed and gave a single, subtle nod. Bro sucked on his cigarette again, blew the smoke out and then leaned back in.

“I’m a private investigator. Your dad, Slick, hired me to find you and bring you home,” Bro whispered, his lips tickling Karkat’s ear. 

Karkat didn’t want to believe it. He’d given up on the hope that anyone might get him out of here half a year ago. It seemed more likely that he’d gone completely insane in this horrible place, plunged deep into a fucked up delusion. But it all felt real, and not even Karkat was messed up enough to dream about a supposed savior like Bro.

“Wh-” he started, but Bro squeezed his shoulder.

“Don’t talk. You said there are microphones. I’m going to get you out of here but I need your help, alright?” He leaned away again and continued smoking, looking like just another client, having a cigarette and looking too fucking content for what he’d just done.

Karkat chewed on his tongue, glaring at him. What the hell kind of private investigator got high on the job? What the hell kind of private investigator had sex with their target? What kind of private investigator was as massively fucked up as Bro obviously was, making him call him “Daddy” when he knew the whole time he’d be delivering him to his father?

Karkat knew Spades was in league with some messed up assholes, but this…

Karkat swallowed. He could hate Bro all he wanted, but if he was going to get out of here, the guy was his only hope. He could tell him just how much of a massive fucking creep he was later, maybe even make one of his violent fantasies come true. Right now, he just had to get out. That sliver of hope, the mere possibility of escape, made him realize he couldn’t spend another day here, not knowing who was going to do what to him next.

Karkat looked up into Bro’s impassive douchebag of a face and gave another tiny nod.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too confident about the way I'm writing this. I feel like I might be doing too much POV switching. Feedback is much appreciated!

Karkat waited for Bro to make good on his promise, to do something. He waited for him to pull out a gun and go shoot the fuckers that had kept him here, half starved and sore, for a year. He waited for Bro to call in an airstrike or something, burn this place to the ground.

Instead Bro just looked around the room again, that paranoid action that made a little more sense now as more than just a side effect of his drug use. Then he leaned over the table, holding his cigarette out of the way, and snorted up another line of the cocaine. What the fuck was he doing? Karkat didn’t trust Bro at all right now, and this wasn’t helping his confidence that the guy was who he said he was, or that he was capable of getting him out of here. 

Karkat glanced at the camera on the wall, suddenly much more conscious of it. He had to admit that Bro wasn’t terrible at not giving himself away even when he was probably high as a kite. Karkat wasn’t sure about his own ability to remain that calm, to act like this was just another customer that he hated and couldn’t wait for to leave.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Bro said at a normal volume. He was standing now, reaching down to take hold of Karkat’s lead. What the fuck? Did he still have to drag him around like a dog? Maybe he liked the role of shitty asshole john a little too much. Karkat grumbled and uncurled from his position on the bed, standing on stiff legs. He didn’t have a chance to try to get his balance before Bro was pulling him to the bathroom.

He stumbled a little, legs feeling weak and unsure after getting fucked, but Bro didn’t give him any slack. Why were they going to the bathroom? Karkat was ready to get out of here right now. He was still feeling a little woozy from his orgasm, though, and it was easy to go where he was taken.

Bro’s gaze swept the tiny bathroom, no doubt looking for more surveillance. Karkat knew there weren’t any in here. There was the one camera in the corner of each room, but even the sick bastards who worked here didn’t want to see what went on in here. He stood in the corner, leaning against the wall and waiting for whatever the hell was going to happen next.

Bro turned on the water, waiting for a few rusty-looking jets to pulse out of the showerhead before it turned clear. He tested the temperature, then motioned to Karkat. “Get in,” he said.

Karkat obeyed, stepping into the hot stream of water and closing his eyes, relishing the feel of the sticky red mess on his stomach and crotch being washed down the drain. He opened his eyes again, watching the pink tinted water disappear, then looked up at Bro. The man crushed his cigarette out against the tile wall and dropped it into the toilet bowl. He started to undress, unbuttoning his shirt and taking off his slacks.

“What are you doing?” Karkat asked, finally fed up with Bro’s stalling. It was time to fucking leave, not take a god damn shower!

“What does it look like?” Bro said, stepping in to join him, “You make a real mess.” Karkat glared at him, but his eyes were drawn to the now fully nude older man in front of him. He hated himself so much for looking at his lean, muscled body, for focusing on the tendrilly edges of a black tattoo peeking over his broad shoulder. 

Bro lowered his voice, leaning in a little bit. “I need you to tell me if you’ve seen any back doors here, any windows without bars.” He was barely audible over the hissing of the shower and now Karkat understood. He was using the noise of the shower to mask their conversation from any microphones. Karkat simultaneously hated to admit and was relieved to see that Bro seemed to have some idea of what he was doing.

“How do I know you are who you say you are?” Karkat asked, keeping his own voice low as Bro grabbed one of the provided tiny hotel soaps and started to go through the motions of washing himself.

Bro pursed his lips, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking because he was still wearing those goddamn shades, even here in the shower. He was insane, he had to be. “Don’t you want to get out of here?” he asked, reaching out to start washing Karkat. Karkat squirmed away and retreated the six inches he could until he hit the cold tile wall.

“Maybe you just happen to know my name and you want to get yourself a free sex slave,” Karkat suggested. “For all I know you’ll just lock me up in your house and treat me worse than they do here. You don’t seem like a very good private investigator from what I’ve seen.” He got that sick feeling in his stomach again like he was about to be punished. For all he knew he would be. Maybe Bro wasn’t even putting on an act. Maybe he was just a fucked up piece of shit who also happened to be tasked with taking Karkat home.

But Bro just sighed, running a hand through his still dry hair (he seemed to have positioned himself to make sure it stayed out of the path of the water). “Your dad is Spades Slick. He runs the Midnight Crew. You disappeared on your way home from your after-school job eleven months ago on July 28th. Your dad had his own people looking, but he wasn’t going to talk to the cops for obvious reasons. When they couldn’t find you, he hired me three months ago. I tracked you down here to Nevada. Did you know you’re in Nevada, by the way? If I wanted a free sex slave I wouldn’t research some kid from Boston just so he believed me when I came to get him. Your dad taught you piano. You like romantic comedies and computer shit. Now you need to tell me if there’s another way out of here aside from the front door.”

Karkat swallowed. He’d had no idea he was in Nevada, though he supposed it made sense. If one of them escaped, it wouldn’t be easy for them to get far in an unfamiliar place. And Bro made a good case, maybe. Karkat wasn’t sure if he was just believing it because he wanted to, because he wanted to think he had some hope of getting back home. Anything had to be better than this right? Even if he was owned by this drug addict who made him call him Daddy. At least he wouldn’t have to wonder what was going to happen every time someone new bought him.

“It’s not like they gave me a tour on my first day,” Karkat said, stepping back into the stream of the water because hot showers were one of the few things he was still able to enjoy. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never given any thought to getting out of here,” Bro said, putting the soap back in the soap dish. There wasn’t much left, it looked like he’d crushed it in his grip into a blob. “Have you ever seen another door that maybe just had a lock or a guard by it? That if it weren’t for that one thing you could get out?”

Karkat looked back down at the drain, carefully making sure Bro’s flaccid cock wasn’t in his line of vision. “There’s a door in the kitchen. But there’s a padlock on it, and an alarm.” Whenever it was his turn to work in the kitchen, Karkat had looked wistfully at that door, dreaming that it would be unlocked one day, that he could get out, but it never was. 

Bro nodded. “I need to get my phone and my gun back. Will the guards up front take a bribe for that?” Karkat wondered what the hell Bro was planning. Or if he even had a plan. It seemed like he should already know what to do. Like he should have spent some time casing the place instead of coming in here and fucking him.

“It’d have to be a pretty gargantuan bribe to get them to give you your phone in here. Not having pictures taken and not letting us have outside contact is kind of a big deal. Forget about the gun. Only way you’ll get that stuff is if you leave.”

He could see movement behinds Bro’s lips, grinding his teeth or chewing on his tongue.  
“I might have to do that then,” Bro said, and Karkat’s eyes widened. 

“No!” Karkat said, lifting his hands to grab at Bro’s chest, as if to latch onto him and make going anywhere without him impossible. He had a sudden sensation of panic at the thought of Bro walking out through the front door without him, leaving him here when he’d promised to get him out. He couldn’t spend another night here. A second later he lowered his hands, feeling like a gullible idiot for acting so dependant on the guy who had just shown up and expected Karkat to trust his word.

“Chill out, I’ll be back. I just need to make a call. They’ll let me leave and come back if I still have time on the clock, right?” 

Karkat looked away, shifting in embarrassment. “Maybe, I don’t know. Might have to bribe them.”

“Hope they take coke,” Bro said, but he didn’t look happy about it.

“Don’t you have money?’ Karkat asked, getting more and more frustrated with Bro’s highly suspect methods.

“Not really,” Bro shrugged. “Down to my last couple twenties.”

Karkat ground his own teeth now. How much had Dad paid this guy? Had he spent it all on cocaine and buying six hours of time he probably wouldn’t even need? He was going to have to tell Dad he’d made a really fucking poor choice in private detectives. 

“Why did you fuck me?” Karkat finally asked, his voice plainly bitter.

Bro raised his eyebrows. “It’d look kind of suspicious if I bought six hours of time and didn’t spend at least a little bit of it doing what this place was made for. Plus, I wanted to.” With that, he reached back and turned off the shower. Any argument Karkat could make back might risk being heard by surveillance. Fucking bastard!

\----

Bro stepped out of the shower and grabbed the threadbare towel hanging on a bar screwed into the wall. He was starting to form a vague plan for how to get him and Karkat out of here. It would take some luck, but that’s was what Bro usually relied on. Things always worked out, one way or another, otherwise he’d have been dead a long time ago. 

Once he was as dry as he could get, he tossed the towel to Karkat and started to get dressed. His fingers were trembling, making it harder to get the buttons into their holes. He tried to ignore it and keep going, ending up with three open buttons at the top of his shirt. The coke was getting to him, but he was confident he could still get the job done. He just had to keep his cool and not freak out.

“There’s a kitchen here right?” he said, no longer whispering as he stepped out of the bathroom and towards the bed, “Take me there. Gonna need a snack before Round 2.” He sat down, remembering where the camera was and making sure the bed blocked the view of the floor where his shoes were.

“Yeah…” Karkat said, following him to the bed. Bro noticed his unsteady gait. Yeah, maybe fucking him so hard had been a bad idea. It was just another mistake he’d have to account for. As Karkat slipped on his greying underwear, Bro leaned down and felt along the heel of his shoe until he found the little latch. He pushed it and a small compartment popped out of the rubber heel, just enough space to hide his set of lockpicks. 

He’d gotten these shoes out of SkyMall. They were a little James Bond-y, but damn if it wasn’t useful in situations like this. He slipped the lockpicks into the cuff of his sleeve and closed the shoe, then sat up. He left his jacket off, wanting to look casual and relaxed when he stepped out of the room, like he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

However, when he looked at Karkat shivering slightly in nothing but underwear, he gave his suit jacket to the short troll. If they had to make a run for it and couldn’t come back to the room, Bro wanted to leave as little behind as possible. He could forget about the cheap tie, the fake Rolex, the five dollar bill, and the single line of coke on the table, but like hell he was leaving without the larger bag of cocaine and the forty or so dollars in the pockets.

Karkat was dwarfed in the black jacket, his clawtips not even peeking out of the hem of the sleeves. He looked just as grumpy and pissed off as he always did, but damn if it wasn’t a little humorous with the huge jacket. Bro could feel a smile pulling on his lips and he let it. This sort of thing probably happened all the time with johns, showing a little bit of affection and fondness for their whores. 

“Let’s go, he said, picking up Karkat’s lead again and leading him towards the door. He could tell Karkat didn’t enjoy it, but he wasn’t going to stop just because the troll knew who he was now. He had to keep his character in tact. He had no clue how closely security watched for suspicious activity, but he wasn’t taking any more chances.

He took a subtle deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the hall and pulling Karkat behind him. The hall was empty and quiet, the dark red carpeting muffling their footsteps. Bro could very vaguely hear sounds of ardor through the walls. Other clients with other whores. He hadn’t seen any other customers, and he had a feeling that was by design. Guys who came to places like this didn’t want to be seen by others, even if they were here for the same reason.

He was glad he’d fucked Karkat. He could focus now. He’d gotten off and now he wasn’t distracted, his libido at a low. He could subtly sweep the hallway for any signs of cameras without thinking about what the inside of Karkat’s nook felt like, what his teeth might feel like brushing lightly over the head of his cock. 

There was one camera at the end of the hall, and he kept his eyes on it from behind his shades as he maneuvered Karkat in front of him to lead the way to the kitchen. He could feel his heart racing, but he knew his face was its usual mask of indifference. His ability to keep cool in situations like this was what made him a successful investigator. It also helped keep his more unsavory methods and habits from his clients, otherwise business would dry up pretty damn fast.

They had reached the stairs, and Karkat was stepping down, legs still wobbly. Bro caught him before he stumbled forward, a hand tight on his shoulder. He could feel Karkat flinching in revulsion at the touch. Along with the ability to focus on something other than sex, he now had the inability to delude himself about Karkat’s feelings about him. But that didn’t matter. He was just the target. He was cargo to be delivered to the client with as little damage as possible.

They were in the lounge now, and the bald handler looked up from where he was sitting at the bar. He narrowed his eyes at Bro and Karkat. “What’re you doing out of your room?” he asked. 

“Uh…” Karkat said, unable to get the words out it seemed. Bro could see him tensing under his jacket. 

“He’s taking me to the kitchen to get something to eat,” Bro said, “Even I need some sustenance for six straight hours of fucking.”

The handler scoffed. “Yeah, sure ya do buddy. Nubs, make your john a drink while you’re at it.”

Bro could see that the handler was at least a little tipsy. No strict rules about drinking on the job apparently. That just made things easier, wouldn’t be as difficult to slip things by him.

Karkat stepped towards the bar, but Bro kept a tight hold on the lead. Karkat looked back at him, and Bro could see the fear in his red eyes. The warning. Bro let go and Karkat continued to the bar, stepping behind it. 

“What would you like?” Karkat asked, his head down as the handler stared at him. The troll was obviously terrified of the man. Corporal punishment was probably a big part of his training here.

Bro stepped up closer to the bar, next to the handler. “Vodka and soda,” he said, trying to get Karkat to focus on him rather than the handler. Lesser of two evils, right? Karkat nodded and went about mixing the drink. He handled everything like it was made of priceless crystal and liquid gold, trying not to spill a drop. It was made more awkward by the long sleeves of the jacket that kept wanting to slide down over his hands. The handler watched everything he did like a hawk. He moved his arm a bit and Karkat twitched. Bro could see him about to spill the bottle of club soda and he reached across the bar to take hold of Karkat’s wrist. “That’s enough. I don’t want it any weaker,” he said, maneuvering the bottle upright and safe.

Karkat looked up at him from under his peculiarly long lashes, a mixed message of thanks and resentment in his eyes. Karkat passed him the drink and started to walk out from behind the bar. 

Before he could get far, the handler grabbed the lead dangling from Karkat’s neck, yanking hard so the collar bit into his throat. “Aren’t y'gonna make me one?” he asked with a low, threatening slur. Karkat shuddered, but nodded and took his place back behind the bar, mixing a drink that he’d apparently made many times. Still, he was clearly on the verge of freaking out. Bro couldn’t have the troll blowing their cover, so he attempted to distract the handler.

“Is there any kinda frequent customer discount or anything?” he asked, sipping from his drink. 

The handler turned his gaze away from Karkat to look at Bro, and Karkat relaxed a bit, able to pour the alcohol a little more carefully. “You think this is an airline or somethin’? No. No discounts.”

Bro shrugged. “Worth a shot. Think I might come back for this fine piece of troll ass.” 

The handler snorted in derision. “You’d be one of the few. Only masochists want more of this rowdy little slut.” 

“Maybe I’m a masochist then,” Bro said with a small smirk, carefully regulating his voice, making sure he sounded relaxed and cool, just fucked and easy, ready for lots more. 

“Better you than me,” the handler said, turning back to Karkat as his drink was handed over. He took a sip and only once he approved did he let go of the troll’s lead. Karkat quickly retreated, making his his way back to Bro’s side without any further delays.

“No food in the room. Cleaning up your jizz is enough work,” the handler said as Karkat led them through through the door.

\-------------

Karkat let out a sigh of relief once the door closed behind them. He hated that motherfucker so much. Bro wasn’t nearly as bad as the trainer, he had to admit. Then again, he didn’t know Bro very well, and he knew the trainer more intimately than he ever would have liked.

They were now alone in the grimy kitchen. It didn’t get much use in the middle of the night when everyone was working. The room consisted of an ancient refrigerator, an oven that always smelled more like gas than whatever it was cooking, and a large stainless steel double sink. Cabinets overhead held chipped dishes and mugs, and a pantry held a few dry foods, mostly oatmeal. 

“You got any hamburgers in here?” Bro asked with a sardonic note. Karkat would have killed for a greasy fast food burger, and he hated Bro for teasing him like that. “I can make you a sandwich,” he said, not really sure what Bro was planning to do in here with the locked door in the corner, just playing along for now. 

“Fine,” Bro said, giving Karkat a nudge between his shoulderblades to get to work. 

Karkat glanced at the one camera in the room. It was pointed right at the heavy metal door that sported a large padlock across it and an electronic alarm that would sound throughout the house if it was opened. It seemed pretty impossible to do anything without a pair of bolt-cutters and some sort of hacking ability. 

Karkat began to gather the ingredients, the good bread for the customers that wasn’t stale, some paper-thin deli meat, mayonnaise and mustard. He could hear Bro pacing around behind him, his fancy black shoes tapping on the cement floor. “Hurry up, I’m hungry,” he said. Karkat scowled down at the bread. What the hell was he talking about, he’d been at it for thirty seconds, tops. Maybe the cocaine was finally getting to Bro, making him irritable and irrational. Just perfect, when Karkat thought he might be getting out of here his rescuer was going to have some kind of manic meltdown.

He spread mayonnaise onto the bread with sloppy haste, trying to speed things up for the colossal asshole that was in control of his fate.

“I said be quick about it,” Bro said, standing right behind him. His arm reached over Karkat to set the empty glass tumbler onto the counter with a loud clink. Karkat could hear his erratic breathing over the top of his head. He tensed, no idea what to expect. Was this part of the plan somehow? It sure as hell didn’t seem like it.

“I’m try-” But Bro put heavy hands on his shoulders, squeezing him.

“You’re too fucking slow. Guess I’ll have to eat you instead. I know I can get a meal out of that slutty bulge of yours before you finish taking your damn time on that sandwich,” he growled. 

Despite the ridiculous logic of what he was saying, Bro’s voice was threatening, suddenly full of lust, and it made Karkat nervous. “Don’t-” he started but the next thing he knew he was being pushed with his back up against a wall, something digging into his spine and Bro’s mouth on his neck, quickly moving down over his body.

Karkat’s breath became shallow and quick as he squirmed under Bro’s hands and mouth. His underwear was yanked down and suddenly Bro was running his tongue over his nook with quick, wet strokes, his hand squeezing his rump with possessive fervor. 

Karkat moaned in spite of himself. Why the fuck was he doing this? It was a lie, the whole escape thing, it had to be. Bro was just fucking with him. He must get off on giving Karkat hope, of using him like this and letting him down. It was probably the most messed up fetish Karkat had ever come into contact with. 

Even so, his bulge was reacting, peeking out of his nook to meet Bro’s tongue, seeking that warm stimulation. It felt so good, he hated it but it felt amazing. Bro was taking all of it as it snaked into his mouth, past his lips and over his tongue, into the opening of his throat.

After a few seconds of trying to focus on the sensations rather than the situation, Karkat noticed that one of the sensations was gone. Bro wasn’t kneading his ass with those large hands anymore. He could feel them moving around behind him, doing...something. Then Bro’s hands came between him and the annoying protrusion that had been poking into his back.

He heard a faint metallic rustling behind him and he became acutely aware of what exactly was happening. The lock, the thing in his back was the padlock, he was up against the back door, and Bro was using his body to shield the camera’s view of him trying to open the lock. 

Karkat hated him so much. Bro was doing exactly what he said he would and he was doing it so well that even Karkat couldn’t see through his cover. And Karkat was pretty sure Bro was taking some sort of weird pleasure in that.


	3. Chapter 3

Bro had spent plenty of time practicing lockpicking blindfolded, using just sound and touch to find his way through tumblers. But he’d never really added a very insistent troll bulge trying to worm its way down his throat to the exercise. It was a little hard to concentrate on what he was doing with Karkat squirming under him.

He tried to focus on finding the right position for each of the pins while the troll’s hands gripped his shoulders, seeming ambivalent about whether they wanted to push him away or pull him forward. He kept his tongue moving, though there was no way in hell the camera could pick up that he wasn’t giving a totally real blowjob. It sort of helped him keep his mind on what was happening behind Karkat, his tongue moving in an imitation of his hands, twisting the picks around just so…

He had to switch to a different pick and hesitated as he felt around in his sleeve cuff for the correct one. In response, Karkat’s claws fell into his hair and tugged at his scalp, trying to get more motion from Bro’s mouth. Bro gave a warning grunt, and luckily the troll seemed to figure out that maybe getting out of here was more important than getting off. His hands went over his mouth instead, thankfully muffling his moans so Bro could hear what he was doing a little better. 

It took longer than normal due to the exceptional circumstances, and Karkat didn’t seem to appreciate Bro’s efforts to keep him from coming. If he finished on camera it might look suspicious if he stayed here, knelt in front of Karkat with his hands right over the lock on the back door. 

Karkat’s whining was starting to get to him, and he was beginning to think he might have to fuck him again before he could continue with the escape. But finally he felt the last pin fall into place, and the cylinder turning for him like a dream. He pulled the shackle open. That was it, the door was unlocked. But there was still the alarm, and they couldn’t leave just yet with the camera still on them. 

He wedged the end of one of his picks into the shackle well and snapped it off inside, then jammed the shackle back in. That would make the lock appear closed on camera, but a quick yank should pull it open easily. 

He was about to pull away from Karkat, but the troll’s fingers were on his scalp again, demanding. Bro decided to throw him a bone since he seemed like he was close, returning his hands to the troll’s ass. A few seconds later his already full mouth felt like it was overflowing with strong-tasting troll jizz, and he gagged a bit as he struggled to take it down his throat. Fuck, it was a lot. 

He finally pulled away, wiping his mouth and looking at the blood-red liquid that had dribbled out onto his shirt. Every time the kid came it looked like a damn murder scene.

Karkat was looking around at the door in the most obvious manner possible, like he wanted to alert the whole damn compound that something was going on. He was clearly confused and had probably thought he was about to get out just then. 

“Not hungry anymore,” Bro said pointedly, and grabbed Karkat by the back of his neck, turning him away from the lock and dragging him back towards the main room. Karkat made a pitiful, uncertain noise, but Bro squeezed him, trying to keep him quiet as he went back towards the bedroom. Luckily the trainer was no where to be seen in the lounge.

\-----------

For the life of him, Karkat couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on. Every time he thought he’d worked it out, he was thrown for a nother loop. He thought Bro had gotten the door open. He’d definitely heard a sound like the lock unlocking. But when he turned around it seemed to be closed, and now Bro was taking him back. He’d thought he was almost free. Sure, the alarm was still active, but they could just run for it right? If they got right into a car they could just drive away and never come back and hopefully the staff wouldn’t have time to react.

If he thought about it more rationally he would have realized that was a stupid plan. But as it was, he just didn’t know what Bro was doing. Was he still fucking with him? He looked up at him as he struggled to keep up on the way back to the room. His face didn’t give away anything as usual, but the way he was holding Karkat, his fervor to get back to the room made him seem like he was just turned on, ready to get back to fucking the daylights out of his little troll whore.

Bro pushed him onto the bed after he’d closed the door and Karkat was starting to think he was going to get fucked again after all. Bro knelt down on top of him, and Karkat tried to fight back, claws sinking into Bro’s chest. This was exactly the sort of thing that led to him getting bruised and broken, but he couldn’t help it, he didn’t want this to happen right now.

Bro grabbed his wrists in one hand and pushed them against Karkat’s chest to keep them away as he leaned in to put his mouth on his ear again. Karkat had to take a few deep breaths to hear him over the rushing of blood in his own head.

“Calm the fuck down, will you?” Bro said, his lips tickling the shell of Karkat’s ear. “I’m going to get you out, I need you to be patient and do what I tell you.” Karkat didn’t know whether or not to trust that, but he stopped fighting back, wanting so badly for Bro to be telling the truth. “I need to make a phone call, so I’m going to leave the building.”

That panic of being left seized Karkat again and he shook his head, despite trying to push Bro away a moment ago. 

“I told you I’ll be back, twenty minutes, tops,” Bro said, his other hand moving along Karkat’s body with covetous motion. For the camera. Maybe. “But I have to do this. Wait for me, and try not to do anything that looks weird. They’re bound to be watching us after all the suspicious stuff we’ve been doing.” 

Karkat shuddered, unsure. This was the most he’d ever felt like he was being jerked around and it was awful. Usually it was just physical, but this was something else altogether. He was starting to think maybe he should just do whatever Bro told him, even if he was lying. He’d just indulge in whatever fucked up fantasy Bro was playing out, and eventually his time would be up and he would be gone. Just another job. He nodded, and went limp on the bed, waiting for whatever Bro was going to do next. 

Bro looked up, his eyes going to the nightstand. He grabbed his watch and looked at it more closely. “Shit,” he said aloud. Karkat didn’t know if this was part of the act or not. And he was starting to not care. 

“I’ll be back,” Bro said, standing up and running a hand through his hair in a harried manner. “I want you ready for me when I come back.” He leaned over Karkat again. “Ready to go,” he whispered, and his hand went into the pocket of the huge suit jacket that was over Karkat’s shoulder. He pulled out a clear bag of white powder and put it into his pants pocket, then left the room.

\----

Bro knocked on the door to the antechamber, his fingers fidgeting nervously around the cocaine in his pocket. This was the last of it. If he had to give this up he’d have to find some more before starting the trip back to Boston. But if it was necessary it would have to be done. He wasn’t going to let his addiction ruin his job. 

One of the beefy trolls opened the door, glaring at him. “Hey guys,” Bro said, contorting his face to give a sheepish sort of grin. “I uh, need to make a phone call.”

“No phones in the building,” the troll said. His English wasn’t very good.

“Yeah, I get that,” Bro rubbed a the back of his neck, “But see, I need to call my wife. I’ll be in a shitload of trouble if I don’t check in. Heh, she thinks I’m at a late meeting. Can’t I just take my phone outside and come back once I’m done?”

The troll frowned and turned to look at his colleague, who had joined him in the doorway to scowl at Bro, then glanced down at the red stain on Bro’s shirt. Bro smirked. “That little red-blood with the tiny horns. You had him? Feisty little whore. And I mean, I still got a lot of time paid for with him so I wanna come back.” His hand closed around the bag and he pulled it out. He held it up to show the trolls, who looked at each other dubiously. “I’d be really grateful if you just let me step out for a bit with my phone.” 

The second troll motioned him in and the first one shut the door behind him. Bro breathed a sigh of relief. “And hey, uh, can I get my gun back too?” Bro asked. He knew he was pushing it. “Just in case I can’t come back? Like I said I’m already late with my check in, and if she’s pissed off I might have to go home.” He shrugged in a way that he hoped said “women, right?” and held out the cocaine to the troll that wasn’t retrieving his phone. The troll took it, and then nodded to the other, who came back with both of Bro’s confiscated items. “I’ll leave ‘em in the car so you won’t have to deal with them when I come back okay?”

He was practically shoved out the door and it slammed behind him. Shit, he really hoped he could get back in. He strode across the gravel parking lot to the dark car and opened it, sliding into the back seat. The broken-horned driver turned to look back. “Will we be leaving now, sir?” he asked. 

“No,” Bro said, waking his phone and navigating to his contacts. “But I’ll be be out in less than half an hour. Pull the car around back as quietly as you can, keep the lights off and be ready to go.” The driver nodded, seeming to respond favorably to Bro’s tone. He’d hired the driver for the night and it seemed that he’d made a good choice. He didn’t ask a lot of questions.

Bro hit the call button and put the phone to his ear, gripping the edge of the leather seat as he counted way too many rings before it picked up. A slurring female voice greeted him. Great.

“Lalonde,” he said, “I need a favor. Pull yourself together.”

\------

Karkat laid on the bed for awhile, staring up at his favorite ceiling stain. He thought about his dad for the first time in a long while. He’d given up thinking about his old life because thinking about how much better it had been made his current situation feel much worse. His dad wasn’t the greatest, sure, but Karkat always felt like he’d had a home. And the fact that he’d hired someone to get him meant he still thought about Karkat even though it had been almost a year.

Well, the idea that he’d hired someone was still in question. But it was a nice fantasy. If Bro could have his weird fucked up savior scenario, then so could Karkat. Why not? He probably wasn’t going to come back. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. It would be back to the old routine of being fucked and beaten and starved. Karkat took a deep breath, full of conflicted feelings, and stood up. 

The lining of the jacket Bro had put on him slipped smoothly against his shoulders. It felt nice, warm and soft. He wouldn’t get to keep it. They would take it away. He didn’t want it anyway. 

He lifted a slat in the blinds at the windows, teasing himself with a glimpse of the outside world as he often did. He had to lean in to see against the dark. He thought the parking lot was empty, but as his eyes adjusted he could see a car door opening and a light figure step out. Bro’s light blonde hair and white dress shirt. He was coming back. Karkat felt a mixture of relief and dread flooding through him as he watched the man walk to the front door.

A second later the door of the bedroom opened and Karkat turned around, foolishly thinking it would be Bro despite him not having enough time to get up here. It was the trainer.

“Chasin’ off customers again?” he growled, leaving the door open as he stepped into the room, “This is why they pay in advance.” 

“He…” Karkat tried to find his voice. “He said he was coming back.” 

“Sure he will,” the trainer laughed, misunderstanding what Karkat had meant. “Bet he’ll come back every week. And he’ll buy you and take you away from all this right?” He walked towards Karkat, who attempted not to cower. “Your ass ain’t worth the price, you’ll have to wait till you can retire.” 

Karkat looked down at the dirty red carpet. The trainer’s breath smelled like alcohol as he loomed over him. He hated the trainer so fucking much. Above even his worst clients, he wished for this man’s death. He wished Bro would hurry up. 

“You know the rules,” the trainer said, putting his hand on Karkat’s shoulder. “Can’t keep client possessions. Take it off.” Karkat swallowed, knowing if he didn’t comply he’d be beaten until he learned his lesson. He slipped the jacket off one shoulder. He’d been naked and nearly naked in front of the trainer countless times, but he still felt disgusting taking clothes off in front of him.

He looked up, seeing Bro’s tall figure entering through the doorframe behind the trainer. 

“I still have four hours left,” Bro said pointedly, crossing his arms and looking none too pleased. Karkat felt incredibly relieved. As much as he didn’t like Bro and all his suspected mindgames, he liked him a lot better than the trainer.

The trainer scowled and turned. “You’re not supposed to leave them unsupervised,” he said taking his hands off Karkat.

“You didn’t mention that in the rules,” Bro said, walking over to Karkat. He took his lead again and pulled him away from the window, to the bed. He waited for the trainer to leave, and when he didn’t after a few seconds he said. “Is this what you mean by supervision? I would think the cameras were enough.”

The trainer realized he was imposing. At least the old adage about the customer always being right seemed to be holding true. “Next time you leave you’re not coming back in without paying,” the trainer said before turning on his heel and leaving. The door slammed behind him. Karkat let out a breath.

Just a moment later Bro yanked on the lead, pushing Karkat to the bed once more. “Now, where were we?” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. He sat down on the bed and Karkat just watched as Bro leaned over the bedside table and inhaled the last line of cocaine that was laying there. He gave that little groan again and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then turned to Karkat.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Karkat realized he meant to leave. He hoped that’s what he meant. He was trying not to hope but he couldn’t help it. He wanted out. He had his underwear, which was his only possession here, so he nodded. “Good,” Bro said, and resumed his former position kneeling over Karkat.

His hand ran over Karkat’s naked torso, along his wriggler scars and to his waist. “How about you return the favor from in the kitchen?” he said with a grin. His fingers trembled against Karkat’s skin, the coke making him shake. Karkat glared at him, trying to communicate how much he didn’t appreciate the character Bro might or might not be playing. 

Bro rolled over and sat against the headboard. He looked like he was ready to settle into another long session, but Karkat noticed he still had his shoes on. Bro pulled him by the lead until Karkat was on his knees between his legs. “Watch your teeth,” Bro commanded.

Karkat chewed on his tongue, wondering how badly he’d be punished if he just bit the whole thing off. Maybe they’d kill him quick.

Karkat was just beginning to undo Bro’s fly when the lights went out.

He barely had time to process what was happening before Bro was yanking him up by the collar again. “You’ll have to lead me,” he whispered into Karkat’s ear. “To the kitchen door, fast as possible. We have five minutes guaranteed before the grid comes back up.” Bro seemed to know exactly what was going on and he was pushing Karkat towards the exit. 

His nightvision kicked in moments later and he fumbled to get the door open quickly. In the dark hallway he could hear panicked sounds coming from the other rooms. Power in the whole building seemed to be out. Which meant the alarm on the door would no longer be operating. Which meant they could get out without alerting anyone. But they had to be fast before the staff tried to get the power back on and started roaming around the building to figure out what was going on.

Karkat’s heart leapt with hope again as he made his way down the hallway with Bro in tow. They reached the stairs and now he had to make sure Bro wasn’t the one who tripped and fell. When they reached the bottom Bro pulled his lead tight and pressed him to the wall as someone hurried past around the corner.

Karkat didn’t dare breathe until Bro urged him forward again. Karkat scanned the dim room and then rushed for the kitchen door, opening it and leading Bro through. The beam of a flashlight cut through the darkness on the other side of the lounge just as the door closed behind them, but Karkat was fairly sure they hadn’t been seen. 

His half-made sandwich still sat on the counter. “The door,” Bro said urgently, and Karkat made a beeline for it. He could see that Bro had taken his sunglasses off, they were perched on his head as he squinted in the dark, hands searching for the padlock. Karkat took Bro’s wrist and guided him to the lock. 

Bro wrapped his hand around it and pulled. With a clink the lock came open and Bro pulled it off. Karkat’s heart was pounding in his throat as Bro pushed it open. Silence. No alarm. He could see the stars outside through the crack. Bro pulled him through and shut it quietly. 

The black car was parked about a hundred feet away and Bro started to run towards it. Karkat tried to follow but the sharp gravel on the ground cut into the soles of his bare feet. “Wait,” he said, trying to ignore the pain, or to just make Bro slow down a little.

Bro grunted and stopped. He scooped Karkat up in his arms and sprinted to the car. Karkat looked over his shoulder, watching flashlight beams sweeping a few of the windows. But nobody was coming out the back door. They thought it was still locked, that there was no way anyone was getting out that way. 

Bro yanked open the back door of the car and practically threw Karkat in. “Drive,” he said before he was fully in himself. The car was moving by the time Bro was in and pulling the door shut. He picked a handgun off of the seat and turned to look through the back window, seemingly ready to use it if needed.

But nothing happened. The car smoothly rounded the building and drove down the parkway through the trees that shaded the building from the main road. A moment later they were turning onto a paved street and the car was speeding up.

Bro turned back around and leaned against the seat, his breath shallow and quick. Karkat couldn’t stop looking behind them. No one was following. He was out. He was free. He’d never be forced to fuck strangers again. He was so fucking happy. 

It was a good five minutes of fast driving before he finally sat down properly, feeling suddenly exhausted. “I’ve got a room in a town about an hour away,” Bro said, running his hands through his hair again. He was putting the gun in his holster. He must have grabbed it as soon as the lights had gone out. 

“Your nose is bleeding,” Karkat said, watching the dark line run from Bro’s left nostril down to the curve of his lip. Bro ran his tongue over his lip, then wiped it his nose with the back of his hand.

“We’ll stay there tonight and then head back tomorrow,” Bro said, not acknowledging the blood now smeared on his cheek. 

Karkat nodded. He was so tired. He was going home. He could relax for once. Bro had been telling the truth and he was out. He listened to the hum of the road rushing by underneath them as he drifted to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of a door slamming nearby woke Karkat suddenly, and for a second he was incredibly disoriented. He couldn’t recall if what had just happened was a dream or not. When he’d first been captured he often woke up thinking it had all been a terrible dream only to find out he was still locked up and being forced to do awful things. He hadn’t had a moment like that in months.

This time he assumed he’d dreamed of escape and was now waking up back on one of the uncomfortable cots he slept on when all the bedrooms were being used and he wasn’t working. But he was warm and cushioned, curled on a plush surface that seemed to stick to his bare thigh. He opened his eyes and realized he was sleeping on the leather back seat of a fancy car.

It was real, he was out. He still couldn’t believe it, there was a strange sense of dreaminess even as he peeled his slightly sweaty leg away from the upholstery. The first thing he really noticed was a smell he hadn’t smelled in so long that it almost made him cry. Fast food. There were two grease-stained bags sitting on the armrest between him and the other seat, and looked in one of them to see a wrapped up hamburger and envelope of french fries. 

He’d eaten a lot of oatmeal at the brothel, sometimes a stale sandwich if he was lucky, and never enough. He was practically salivating when presented with this food. He was about to tear into it when he heard the sound of another car door closing outside. 

He looked out the window to see Bro’s back to him. He was standing next to a dull orange, beat-up looking economy car and putting on a brown leather jacket. He seemed to be speaking to the driver standing next to him, a troll Karkat hadn’t really paid much attention to in the excitement of the escape and the following exhaustion.

He looked beyond them, trying to figure out where they were. It was a dark parking lot lit by a few flickering street lights, and a two story building that was probably a motel or apartment complex. Karkat cautiously opened the door and stepped out, the asphalt feeling strange on his feet. He took a moment to breathe in the outside air, dry and cool. It had been so long. 

“-up Antelope Canyon, then down Klondike till you get back on 93,” Bro was saying to the driver, leaning over a map on the hood of the orange car, tracing his finger along it. “Even with the plates they might be looking for any black sedan.” 

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied, then shifted when he noticed Karkat. Bro turned and looked over his shoulder at Karkat, then around the parking lot in a paranoid manner. His sunglasses were back on. 

“Get in the room,” Bro said tersely, pointing to the door the cars were parked in front of.

Karkat glared at him, but he had no idea what to say, and he didn’t really want to stay out here anyway, just in case they were looking for him. That seemed to be what Bro was thinking, anyway. He reached back into the car and grabbed the bags of food, then walked cautiously along the paved ground to the door marked “12” in rusted metal numerals. He turned the knob and stepped in. 

It was a lot like the rooms at the brothel, but there were two beds and a television. Plus, it looked like someone had been living here for awhile. Clothes were littered around and the bedsheets were a mess. Karkat sat down on the bed that hadn’t been disturbed and started looking for the tv remote as he opened one of the paper bags.

\-----

Bro folded up the map and gave it to the driver once they had confirmed the route. “Payment’s squared away?” he asked as he handed the troll one of car’s original license plates.

“Yes, sir,” Zahhak, replied, carefully taking the license plate and moving to kneel down in front of the car. Bro went to the rear and removed the fake plate below the trunk, replacing it with the original. He had no clue if the brothel management was invested enough to come after them, but he wasn’t going to take any chances, especially not with the driver who’d had no clue what he was getting into when Bro had hired him.

When they’d finished, Zahhak handed him the other fake plate and Bro did a final once-over of the back seat to make sure he hadn’t left anything. He checked his pockets and remembered everything was in the jacket Karkat was wearing.

“Thanks, man,” he said to Zahhak as he started towards the room. 

“My pleasure, sir,” the troll said, giving him that creepy broken smile again as he got into his car and started the engine. Bro stood by the hotel room door, watching the sedan pull out of the lot, scanning the empty road beyond, then went inside.

The television was on, static-y interludes breaking up the sounds of speech or music as Karkat flipped through the channels. Karkat was sitting on one of the beds, cramming the last of a hamburger into his mouth. Bro walked over and picked up one bag, then the other.

“One of those was supposed to be for me,” he said.

Karkat gave him another one of those furious glares that seemed to be his default expression. “There’s still some fries left,” he replied, wiping his hands on the lapel of the suit jacket he still had on. “I wanna talk to my dad.”

Bro pursed his lips and took his phone out of his pocket. He navigated to his client’s number and handed the phone to the target, ready to be dialed. Karkat took it and slipped off the bed, scampering to the bathroom. 

Bro took the fast food bad and sank down on the bed he’d been sleeping in. He put a few of the fries into his mouth and chewed, not really tasting them as he toed off his shoes. His high had worn off half an hour ago, but he knew the worst was yet to come. It was never bad when he knew he had more coke waiting for him. But he’d given the last of his stash to the trolls at the brothel. He felt intensely jealous of them, even though they were probably in big trouble for letting someone escape with the merchandise.

There was nowhere nearby he could get more. He’d been living in this middle-of-nowhere hotel for a week, and he knew no one around here sold any. He’d have to find some on the way back. The uncertainty made him incredibly anxious, and he slipped his fingers up under his shades to rub at the corners of his eyes, listening vaguely to the two-for-one deal the infomercial on the television was offering.

He’d salvaged all the french fries from both bags and was peeking out the window when Karkat came out of the bathroom. The young troll’s eyes looked moist, his cheeks had a few traces of red on them as he padded over to the bed Bro had been sleeping on and dropped the phone on it. It immediately disappeared into the tangle of sheets. He sat back down on the other bed, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand and looking like he was trying to hold back a smile.

Now that Slick knew he’d acquired his son, he should be wiring Bro the agreed upon amount. Not a moment too soon. Expenses for food, gas and other necessities (drugs) added up for a cross-country trip. He hadn’t seen anything suspicious out in the parking lot, so he tore himself away from the window.

“You want to take that off?” he asked. Karkat furrowed his brow at him, and began to remove the jacket. “I mean the collar,” Bro clarified. Karkat’s eyes widened and he felt along the leather collar around his neck with his claws. He’d probably forgotten about it, having worn it constantly for almost a year.

“Yeah,” Karkat said, stretching his throat as he turned the collar around so the clasp was in the front. There was a tiny gold padlock keeping it from being taken off. “Can you pick the lock?”

“No need,” Bro said, moving towards the bed. He pulled a wooden-handled pocket knife out of his jacket and flipped it open. Karkat gave him a dubious look and leaned away. “Relax,” Bro said, “Just stay still.”

He put a hand on Karkat’s jaw to tip it to the side. Karkat held the position, and Bro could feel his pulse beating wildly under his fingers. He slipped the knife carefully under the leather strip and turned the blade outwards, glad his hands weren’t shaking for once. He began to saw gently at the tough material, moving the knife up and down.

He felt Karkat’s skin shifting as he swallowed, watched his eyelashes quiver as he looked at Bro out of the corner of his eye. 

After a few moments of work, the leather snapped apart and the collar fell onto the bed, useless. Karkat let out a breath and put a hand over his now bare throat. Bro folded his knife closed and put it back in his pocket. He could see tears welling up in Karkat’s eyes again. 

He walked around the bed and went into the bathroom. “We’ll leave tomorrow. I’ll get you some clothes at the Wal-Mart,” he called out before closing the door and starting the shower.

\------

Karkat curled up on the bed and wept softly into the pillow, not giving a shit about the linen. He wouldn’t have to clean up his own mess after the client was gone. Someone who was paid to do that would take care of it tomorrow. He had just finished crying in the bathroom, but the feeling of that weight on his neck that he’d grown used to so long ago suddenly disappearing pushed him over the edge again.

His dad had sounded so relieved to hear him, and Karkat had been unable to keep himself from sobbing into the phone at the sound of his voice. He wished he could be home now to hug him. He couldn’t wait to go back. Hell, he couldn’t way to go back to school, for fuck’s sake. To see the teachers he’d hated. That all seemed so insignificant when he thought about the fucker who’d been “teaching” him for the past year. He could forget about that now, and could focus on getting back to his family and friends… 

There was a sudden pang in his chest as he remembered his other friends, the ones that had been made out of necessity in the brothel. They had banded together because they were all in the same situation, though it was highly discouraged by the staff. They would help each other out in secret, sharing food or drugs when they could get them. 

Karkat recalled a particular customer who was known for being violent selecting him from the lineup. As money was being changed hands the girl next to him, Jade, had reached her hand behind his back, slipping a few pills into his hand. He had taken them without knowing what they were. It had still hurt, but he found he hadn’t cared, and a night that would have been unbearable otherwise had drifted by easily in a haze.

And there was Eridan, a purple blood who had arrived a few months after Karkat. He’d been extremely awful to everyone, including the other kids. He’d turned out to be very popular because of his blood color, and after his first client he’d been shaking and had curled up on his cot. Even though he’d been a complete dick, Jane and Nepeta had comforted him. He’d cried for hours while the rest of them took shifts holding him, and after that he’d been much nicer. He and Karkat even liked to sleep next to each other if it was possible.

Karkat was out, his collar was off. But Jade, Eridan, Nepeta, and Jane was still there, and now that there was one less of them there they had a greater chance of being chosen by the next client. They all did. It wasn’t fair. When Bro had first said he’d get him out Karkat had imagined an exciting escape full of gunfire and explosions, all of the kids being freed and the brothel going up in flames. Instead they had slipped quietly out the back door, and Karkat had eaten two hamburgers and was drifting to sleep, comfortable and full in a warm bed.

When he woke up the sun was peeking through a tiny gap in the dark curtains over the window. He felt groggy but well rested. He hadn’t had so much sleep in a very long time and it made him sluggish and slow to wake. He knew where he was this time, a motel somewhere in Nevada with Bro, the guy who had gotten him out of sex slavery. After fucking him.

He looked over to the other bed, spotting Bro in the mess of sheets, his bare back towards the ceiling and his head half under a pillow. He was asleep, and Karkat watched him for a bit, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing becoming slightly hypnotic in Karkat’s sleepy state. The black tribal-style tattoo Karkat had caught a glimpse of on Bro’s shoulder blade was in full view now . Karkat tried to figure out what the hell it was supposed to be without much success.

As he gradually became more aware, his thoughts from last night came back, plaguing him while he showered in the hotel’s grimy bathroom. He was supposed to go home today, and he wanted that more than anything. But he knew he would be wrought with guilt if he just skipped off back to Boston without doing something. He rehearsed what he would say to Bro in his head as he looked at himself in the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes, the scars on his shoulders. 

Bro was still asleep when Karkat came back into the room. Karkat waited, killing time by looking at the bunch of papers that were spread out on the desk in the corner of the room. It was all information pertaining to Karkat and the brothel. There were photos of people Karkat didn’t know, buildings he’d never seen, maps, transcripts of interviews, including one with his dad. There was a large photograph of himself, and he recognized it as his last school portrait.

He looked at himself from a year ago, scowling out at the camera. He compared it to his reflection in the mirror. It was still him, but…

He put the photo face down on the desk and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was well into the afternoon and Bro was still sleeping. Karkat chewed on his lip as he crept up to the bed. 

“Bro?” he said. No answer. “Bro!” he said it louder. Bro shifted slightly, burying his head further under the pillow. Karkat frowned and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Hey!”

Bro gave a low snarl and tried to shake his hand off, but Karkat wasn’t going to give up that easily. He shook Bro harder. “Wake up!” he shouted, and Bro gave a miserable groan, curling in on himself. When Karkat didn’t let go he grabbed Karkat’s wrist and pulled it away. Karkat shrank back a bit as Bro finally started to move, sitting up. 

“Fuck, what is it?” he said in a hoarse voice. He pulled his head out from under the pillow, and felt around in the sheets until he found his shades.

“It’s after 2pm,” Karkat said, sitting down on the other bed.

“So?” Bro said. He seemed to be in an especially bad mood. He put his sunglasses on and turned to look at Karkat. Running his hands through his extremely messy hair, he glared at Karkat with extreme annoyance.

Karkat fidgeted with the hem of the suit jacket. It was the only thing he had aside from his underwear, even if it was just being lent to him. “Uh…” he started, having a difficult time remembering all the things he’d thought about saying. “I want to go back. To the brothel.”

Bro stopped what he was doing, which was rubbing his eyes underneath his shades. “Excuse me?”

“I want to get everyone else out,” Karkat said. He looked up to meet Bro’s eyes, his jaw set in defiance, daring Bro to tell him no.

“No,” Bro said. He stretched and swung his legs over the edge of the bed to plant them on the floor. He was wearing grey boxer briefs, which Karkat was relieved to see. “I’m taking you to Boston.” He put his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He certainly cut a different figure from the stoic, confident, well dressed, wealthy image last night, now hunched over in this shitty hotel room.

Karkat realized Bro must be going through withdrawal. Still, he wasn’t going to be distracted. “I’m not going until you take me back,” he said, staring Bro down, though he couldn’t really make eye contact. He settled for looking at his mussed hair. 

Bro took a deep, exasperated breath. “What the hell do you think you’re gonna do once you’re there?”

Karkat rubbed his ankles together. “...Give me your gun. I’ll shoot the guards.” It was admittedly not a great plan. But he just knew he had to do it.

Bro gave a short, humorless laugh. “You ever used a gun?”

“No…”

“Forget about it.” Bro was massaging at his temples now. “My job is to get you back to your dad. That’s what I’m doing.”

Karkat sawed his fangs gently across his lower lip. He’d figured it wouldn’t be that easy. Swallowing, he said, “I’ll let you fuck me again.”

Bro looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. “What makes you think I want that?”

Karkat frowned. He gripped the hem of the jacket. “You liked it last night. I know you did. You didn’t have to fucking hit me and make me call you ‘daddy’ to act like a client.” Bro looked away, at the clock on the nightstand. Karkat pressed on, “You can even fuck me first and then take me. I’m not going to leave my friends there.”

“No,” Bro said again, more firmly this time. He tilted his neck to the side until it cracked, then repeated it to the other side. “Not happening. I’m not gonna put this case in jeopardy so you can be a hero. You think your dad would want you to do that?”

Karkat huffed, gritting his fangs until his jaw hurt. Bro seemed to care about getting paid more than anything else. “I won’t tell my dad what you did to me,” he said. It hadn’t occurred to him before because he’d been used so many times, it didn’t seem like something he could utilize as leverage anymore. But it was different now.

And it seemed to have an effect. Bro faced him again, brow furrowed. 

“You know who he is,” Karkat continued, heartened by Bro’s reaction, “He’s not going to be okay with the fact that the guy he hired to protect me had sex with me.” He used to use his dad’s line of work as a threat all the time in schoolyard disputes. He’d even used it a few times when he’d first been kidnapped until it became clear it didn’t hold any weight.

Bro seemed to be thinking about it, which Karkat counted as progress. He stood up and took a step towards Karkat. Karkat flinched as Bro reached down, but he just put his hand into the pocket of the suit jacket and pulled out his lighter and pack of cigarettes.

“You’re not going,” he said with a note of finality. He put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, then lumbered off towards the bathroom. “I’ll go back and take care of it. You’re staying here.”


	5. Chapter 5

Broderick sat in the driver’s seat of his beat-up orange Volvo, his hands gripping the steering wheel, slippery with sweat. He was so stupid, so fucking stupid to be doing something like this. The plan was to get in and out with Karkat, no witnesses, no alarms, no fucking drama. And he had pulled it off just like he’d planned, had been seventy miles away and ready to collect his paycheck. 

But now he was back here, about to do one of the most idiotic things he’d ever done, and that was saying something. He should just drive away, tell Karkat too fucking bad about his friends and cart him back to his dad. At which point, of course, Karkat would promptly let his father, the mob boss, that Bro had essentially used his money to fuck his son against his will. He probably should have foreseen this turn of events, or at least figured out that maybe fucking the target might come back to bite him in the ass. 

Too late now. He’d been high and making bad decisions and now he was paying for it with more bad decisions. Fucking wallowing in the throes of withdrawal, back here and checking his gun’s magazine for the tenth time. Still fully loaded. He had his plan figured out up to the first few steps, but he was craving a line so badly that it was hard to think clearly. His only hope was that maybe someone had some in there and he could snag it.

Maybe the trolls at the door hadn’t used his bribe up yet, Yeah, right. They’d clearly been using it when he’d come back from the car last night. The chances they hadn’t gone through the whole bag already were pretty slim. Maybe someone had some higher up though. You didn’t get into one illegal business without brushing up against a few others. 

Bro pulled out his phone. Lalonde had already told him she couldn’t pull the same stunt again so soon, so he would be working without the advantage of sudden darkness. She’d been able to hold off the power coming back on for an hour last night, so it had probably been awhile before they’d discovered him and Karkat gone. It had gone so perfectly. Except now Bro was back. He kept coming around to that fact again, dwelling on it with gritted teeth. 

He dialed 911 and hit the call button. “I just heard gunshots and screaming,” he said, then gave the address. They might wonder how the hell he’d heard them in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, but he wasn’t going to stick around to tell them, or wait for the cars they were sending to question him as to his identity and his business in the area. He figured he had at least a half hour before they got here. 

It was hard to will himself to move when he just wanted to sleep or die or, best case scenario, one leading peacefully into the next. But he did it anyway, pulling the brim of his cap down low over his eyes and opening the car door. His sneakers crunched against the gravel as he tried to ignore the paranoia that he was being watched, being recognized. He looked completely different from yesterday, arriving in his real car and real clothes. Still, the anxiety that came with crashing from a binge was eating away at him. 

He got to the front door and knocked three times, the empty metal sound resounding again. Maybe they wouldn’t even been open after what had happened yesterday. Either way, he flipped the safety off his pistol and lifted the barrel to point at the eye-slot in the door, waiting for it to open.

\-----------

Karkat couldn’t keep himself away from the window, peeking through the curtains every few minutes into the parking lot. He knew it was silly, that Bro would come into the room when he came back and Karkat wasn’t going to miss him if he wasn’t looking out the window. But he still kept looking out.

He tried to watch TV, but as much as he wanted to lose himself in the fiction he’d missed a whole year of, he couldn’t get away from the reality of what might be happening back at the brothel. Was Bro even there? Hell, maybe he’d decided to just run off rather than doing something he didn’t want to do. 

Karkat had tried to convince Bro to take him along, but the man wasn’t having any of it. Karkat had offered help, to stay in the car and provide a quick getaway, but really he just wanted to make sure Bro was going to do what he said he would. But the asshole wouldn’t budge on that particular point. He seemed to be out of cocaine, and Karkat was a little afraid of how short his temper was. He didn’t want to push against him too much.

Bro had left two hours ago, and though he’d left a bunch of stuff here, Karkat didn’t really trust him not to just bail. He clothes and papers were still scattered all over the place, and in his anxious snooping, Karkat had found a box of bullets as well as a bottle of tequila. He’d tried to drink some but decided the taste wasn’t worth it. Plus, who knew what Bro might do if Karkat depleted his only other method of chemical brain-fuckery. 

He tried to sleep, tried to distract himself, even tried going for a walk. But the memory of being grabbed off the street on his way home a year ago was still fresh in his mind. He didn’t feel comfortable outside even though he’d been kept indoors and had hated it for so long.

Still, every so often he would stick his head out the door and breathe in the desert air, tinged with exhaust fumes from the highway. He couldn’t get enough of it from the relative safety of the hotel room doorway. 

It felt strange to be wearing clothes. He couldn’t tell if it was going so many months in nothing but underwear or just that the cheap jeans and t-shirt from Wal-Mart were ill-fitting. He didn’t want to take them off, though. He hated that feeling of constant exposure more than the mild discomfort of scratchy fabric.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, idly flipping through the cycle of channels for what felt like the millionth time, one hand in his pocket around the twenty dollar bill Bro had given him. He hadn’t said it, but Karkat was pretty sure that the twenty dollars was meant to get him back to Boston if Bro didn’t come back. It might get him a meal and a phone call to his Dad to wire him some money to catch a bus or plane. He could probably do that now and say the hell with Bro, but he wanted to find out what had happened with his friends. 

He had just settled on a channel that was showing reruns of The Thresh Prince when the door opened. Karkat whipped his head around to see Bro standing in the doorway. He stepped in and slammed the door closed, making a bee-line for his suitcase in the corner.

“What happened?” Karkat asked as Bro crossed between him and the television. “Where is everybody?” 

Bro didn’t answer. He crouched down in front of the suitcase, and now that Karkat could see his back, he had a view of a ragged hole in the leather over Bro’s left shoulderblade. There was blood around the edges, and Karkat swallowed. He got up and stepped closer, willing himself not to be discouraged.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said, forcing his voice to keep its aggressive tone. He wasn’t going to let Bro get out of answering him just because he had an injury.

Bro pulled the bottle of tequila out of his suitcase and held it between the knees, opening it with his right hand. He put his mouth against the bottle and tilted it back, gulping down an amount that Karkat would estimate equal to five or six shots thanks to his unwilling training as a bartender. 

Bro lowered the bottle, taking in a sharp breath and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Does my car look like it could hold a dozen naked teenagers?” he said, his voice quiet and shaking slightly. He set the bottle down on the floor and slid his jacket off his right arm. “Do you want me to pick which five kids get go leave first?” He started to slowly pull the sleeve of of his left arm, grimacing as he did so.

Karkat scowled, even though he had a point. It wasn’t really practical to take them all out at once. The fact that he’d considered going in by himself was pretty crazy, and he had no clue what he would have done once everyone was out.

“And then what am I supposed to do?” Bro continued, “Track down each one of their families and spend weeks hand-delivering them around the country?” As the jacket fell off his back, it revealed a dark red stain soaked into the white fabric of his shirt, going down the left side of his back. There was a makeshift bandage tied tightly under his armpit and over his shoulder. It looked like it might be made out of bed linens. “I called the cops. Your pals are probably all wrapped up in trauma blankets sipping coffee outta styrofoam cups by now.” 

“But-” Karkat chewed on his tongue, unable to take his eyes off of Bro’s back as the older man opened a first-aid kid and started taking things out. “They have contacts in the police department. They warn them if there’s gonna be a raid.” It had never happened in Karkat’s time there, but he’d overheard two of the staff members talking about all the dirty cops they knew.

“Don’t think anyone’s left that can do anything about it if they’re warned,” Bro said. He was untying the bandage around his shoulder now. As he peeled it away the dark, sticky, drying blood came away with it, and a fresh glob of bright liquid pumped its way out of a messy hole in his skin. Karkat didn’t want to ask what Bro meant by no one being left, but he sure as fuck hoped it meant they were all dead. He stepped around to Bro’s front reaching forward to start undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“Oh now you’re gonna help me?” Bro asked, smirking a little bit. 

“You’re not supposed to drink when you’ve got blood loss,” Karkat grumbled, glaring at Bro as hard as he possibly could. When Bro didn’t deign to respond he added, “What happened to the trainer?”

“Who?” Bro replied, wincing as he peeled the shirt off.

“Uh...the...bald guy. Human. You talked to him last night at the bar,” Karkat said. He opened the small bottle of rubbing alcohol from the kit and moved to stand behind Bro again.

“Oh,” Bro hissed as Karkat poured the alcohol down his back. The blood caked around it washed away. There was a large wound in Bro’s shoulder blade, piercing through the thick black lines of his tattoo. “I shot him. He’s dead.”

“Oh,” Karkat said, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t sure how to react. He was overwhelmingly relieved that the guy was dead, and Karkat had longed to do it himself many times, had planned to do it today if Bro had let him, but faced with the reality that Bro had killed someone… He tried not to think about it, focusing on cleaning the wound, wiping away the blood the same color as his own. “What happened here?” he asked.

“Some fucker stabbed me from behind,” Bro replied. He’d stopped moving, instead letting Karkat do the work. 

“You should probably go to the-”

“Hospital? Nope. I’m pretty sure what I need t’ do is get as far away from this dumb state as soon as possible. We’re leaving tomorrow for real.”

“Okay,” Karkat said quietly. Bro was starting to slur, the tequila taking effect much faster than normal with his decreased blood level, “You promise they’re gonna be okay?”

Bro snorted with laughter and then groaned slightly as the movement disturbed his injury. “Would my word be worth anythin’ t’you?”

“I don’t fucking know, I’m just asking for a little reassurance here,” Karkat said. He carefully rubbed some antibiotic ointment around the opening in Bro’s skin. 

“Check the news tomorrow. If y’don’t see anythin’ about it you can shoot me.”

“Okay,” Karkat said, eyeing the gun holster that had been discarded on the floor and telling himself he totally would. He pressed a thick bundle of gauze over the wound and taped it down tightly. 

“So I get t’ fuck you again, right?” Bro asked. He stood up slowly and took a few unsteady steps until he reached the closest bed, Karkat’s.

“I thought you didn’t want that,” Karkat frowned as he watched Bro flop down face first and groan again.

 

“Lied,” Bro mumbled into the bedspread. 

“No,” Karkat said. “You should drink some water.”

“‘Kay.” 

Karkat filled up one of the plastic cups provided by the hotel with tapwater and brought it back to the bed. Bro was asleep. Karkat nudged him a few times but got no response. He put the cup on the nightstand and turned off the television.

He hadn’t realized how much staying up and worrying had tired him out, but he was suddenly exhausted. He took off his pants, trying not to feel dirty about this simple, necessary act, and climbed into Bro’s messy bed. It smelled like him, and Karkat shifted a few times, trying to find a position where the scent was least apparent. He couldn’t though, and even though he wanted to, he couldn’t sleep. He sat up and turned the TV back on, flipping through the channels in search of breaking local news bulletins.

\-------------

Bro didn’t think he could feel any worse than the last time he’d woken up, but he was proven wrong by to a pounding headache that greeted him into consciousness. He groaned, then immediately shut up when that just made things worse. His sunglasses were digging into the bridge of his nose, his shoulder was throbbing in time with his head, and his limbs were stiff, painful to move. 

Aside from the blood rushing around in his skull, he could hear the television faintly playing, muffled, official-sounding speech poking through the thick fog of his misery. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he was incredibly thirsty, so he forced himself to lift his head and open his eyes. He was thankful for the dimness of the room, the thick curtains blocking out the sunlight outside. But even the flickery blue-ish light of the television made him squint. 

He found a cup full of water on the nightstand next to him and took it gratefully, gulping it down entirely. He was still thirsty, but fuck if he felt like getting up. “Hey,” he croaked. Karkat’s silhouette in front of the TV turned to look back at him. “Get me some water?” Bro asked pitifully. Karkat stood up and took the cup off to the bathroom without a word of backtalk. 

Bro rubbed at his temples with his right, uninjured arm, trying to find a comfortable position for his left shoulder while he waited. His eyes focused slowly, and his gaze fell on the images moving across the television screen. There was a parade of figures walking across, cloaked with blankets and faces digitally blurred out. He couldn’t make out the text below the picture, but he was pretty sure he knew the gist of it.

“...twelve individuals, troll and human, male and female, ranging in ages from fourteen to twenty. The building had been reportedly used as a brothel. Most of the self-identified individuals match with missing child reports, some from more than three years ago.” Bro let the female reporter’s inoffensive voice drone on, and laid his head back on the pillow He closed his eyes and listened for anything about suspects, witnesses, anything that could mean trouble. 

“Hey, your water.” Karkat’s voice came from the side of the bed and Bro held out a hand to receive the cup. “No one has said anything about you,” he said, seeming to understand where Bro’s concern’s laid. “All the kids said they were in their rooms and hadn’t come out till the shooting stopped.” 

Bro knew they were lying. He had almost accidentally shot one of them reflexively on sight when he kicked the door of the management office. Luckily he’d recognized the purple-blooded seadweller from the lineup the night before. Another one, an olive skinned girl with long hair, had been used as a human shield by the trainer, her eyes pleading with Bro as he held her in front of him. But apparently they were keeping quiet about who had saved them. Good. But it was all still shitty. He hadn’t been able to stick around long enough to find any coke.

He breathed a sigh of relief anyway and downed the second glass of water. 

“We’re leaving today, right?” Karkat said. Sure, now he was eager to get going. 

Bro scowled. He didn’t feel like moving anytime soon. But he knew he would have to. He hated it here, and he wanted his paycheck. “Yeah,” he sighed.

“I went to Wal-Mart,” Karkat said.

“Okay,” Bro replied, though he wasn’t too happy about the idea of Karkat going out on his own. He was still responsible for his safety, after all.

“I got a first aid kit. I think you need stitches.”

Bro grunted. Fuck. He was probably right. He wondered why Karkat had spent the last twenty dollars on a suture kit, of all things.

\-----

They were all dead. Karkat kept reminding himself of that fact. Or, assumed fact. He didn’t know how many people were actually working in the brothel, he’d only seen five different ones in his time there, but the news report had said there were six bodies. Someone he’d never met? An unlucky client that happened to be there on the wrong night? He didn’t care. He wanted them all dead anyway.

Still, as much as he’d fantasized about doing it himself, now that it had come to pass, he thought he would have preferred if they’d all just had sudden heart attacks, or simultaneously choked on their own bile. The idea of Bro going through the house and systematically putting bullets into each one was sort of scary. Karkat had suffered for a year, he had built up the anger he felt was justified for that kind of violence. Bro was just doing his job and trying to save his ass from the wrath of Spades Slick.

He tried not to think about it too much. He’d gotten what he wanted. His friends were free, he was free, and now he was going home. He didn’t want to debate whether he should be grateful to Bro or scared of him.

“Ow,” Bro grumbled into his pillow as Karkat poked the needle through the ragged, ink-dyed skin.

“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate,” Karkat replied, narrowing his eyes in the dim lamplight to try to focus on the thin curved metal. He’d only done this two times before, stitching up Terezi after a particularly nasty client, and John when he’d cut himself with a kitchen knife. Jade had done it for him when one of the lacerations from his early training sessions wouldn’t close by itself. They were okay now. They were all okay. 

“Just give me a little bit?” Bro said, trying to keep his voice steady, but it was starting to sound like a whine.

“No, you’re driving,” Karkat said again, “If you keep fucking asking, I’ll drink the whole damn bottle myself and then we’ll see how good I am at stitching you up.”

Bro did whine this time, inarticulate, and buried his face into the pillow as Karkat continued his inexpert suturing. He tried to match up the interrupted lines of Bro’s tattoo, but he had a feeling it was never going to look the same.

Bro fell asleep again after Karkat had finished bandaging him. He tried to rouse him to get him ready to go, but eventually decided it would be better if he had as much sleep as possible. He kept the television on while he tried to jam all of Bro’s crap into his suitcase, eager to hear any more updates about the illegal underage brothel bust in the middle of the Nevada desert. They didn’t show any pictures of the inside, or any of the dead employees, and Karkat couldn’t decide if he was thankful or that or if he wanted just a glimpse to satisfy his bloodlust.

It was getting dark again when he finally decided he wasn’t going to let Bro sleep anymore. He stood next to the bed, his claws gripping at the plastic cup of water in his hand. He told himself to quit stalling, and dumped it on Bro’s face. It worked a hell of a lot better than any amount of nudging and shaking had done. 

Bro jolted up, sputtering and sniffling, trying to clear the water from his mouth and nostrils. “What the fuck!” he shouted, grabbing for the nearest living thing and most likely culprit. His large hand wrapped around Karkat’s neck, and Karkat reflexively dug his claws into Bro’s arm. His instincts were tempered by his brothel training and he lightened up, then dug back in when he remembered he wasn’t a whore now. 

Bro was fuming, his chest rising and falling rapidly, glaring at Karkat, and for the first time Karkat saw his eyes, orange and firey, bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. Fuck, he was terrifying. Karkat gave a choked gasp and Bro seemed to remember who he was and took a hand off his throat, turning away to dry his face with a corner of the linens. Karkat coughed and spoke.

“I...we should go. The news said they were looking for suspects in nearby towns.” That was a lie, but it seemed reasonable, and Bro shot a glance back at him. Karkat watched his pupils contract for a moment before his shades were back on.

“Fuck,” Bro said, “I need to get my stuff.”

“I already packed everything,” Karkat said, gesturing to the suitcase by the door.

Bro was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable behind his shades now, and then he stood up and lurched to the bathroom. “Gimme ten minutes.”

Karkat sat in the passenger seat, watching Bro walking out of the motel office and wondering if maybe he should drive instead. He’d never gotten his license, had been a month into his learner’s permit when he’d been kidnapped. But he thought even his limited experience would be safer than Bro’s...whatever the hell was going on with him.

He looked exhausted, despite the fact that he’d been sleeping for all but 6 or so of the last 48 hours. He was dragging his feet and looking at his phone, his left hand held awkwardly stiff at his side. When he finally got to the car he opened the door and flopped into the driver’s seat with a grunt, shifting every time his injured back came into contact with the seat. He dropped the phone into the cupholder between the seats and started the car, then leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

Karkat peered down at the image on the phone. It was displaying a map, a route that led them from their current location on the east edge of Nevada northeast, and ended in Salt Lake City.

“Why does it say we’re going to Salt Lake City?” Karkat asked with a frown. Why not just plan a route all the way to Boston?

“We got a long drive,” Bro said, pulling himself upright and shifting gears into Drive. “Baby steps.” With that he pushed his foot down on the accelerator and pointed them eastward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I should probably put some sex in here to appeal to other people instead of just indulging my fetish for shitty burnouts and sutures.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this is kind of going off the rails, but I'm trying to get it back on track with some hateful cockrubbing.

Bro was starting to hate himself. Why the fuck had he given those idiots at the door his coke? He should have just offered to suck them off if they didn’t want to give him his phone. He’d already given one troll blow job that night, what was two more? It seemed highly worth it if it meant he could avoid his current state of affairs, driving through the night as fast as he could without getting pulled over, trying to get to some semblance of civilization so he could end the gnawing craving that was practically eating him alive.

He’d already stopped by an ATM, been relieved to find that his bank account was flush again thanks to his client’s payment. The cash was now burning a hole in his pocket, already spoken for. Now he was just heading for Salt Lake City, and then...he didn’t know where he would get it, but he would, knew how to look for it even if he didn’t know anyone. And then, once he’d refilled his stock, he could get back to delivering the target and collecting the rest of his pay.

His target was currently asleep in the passenger seat, head pressed against the folded up suit jacket between him and the window. Karkat had been so adamant about getting going and then had promptly passed out as soon as they were out on the open road. He was snoozing soundly while Bro was sweating and looking into the rearview mirror every ten seconds, pinching himself, shifting his injured shoulder and thinking about his soon-to-be high to keep himself awake. 

The road stretched out endlessly as they headed north and east, surrounded by low mountains that formed dark interruptions in the field of stars overhead. Bro flipped through the weak radio stations, listening for any news about the search Karkat had warned him about. He hadn’t heard anything, either because there were so few broadcasts out here in the desert or because the kid had been lying. That was fine. It got him out of bed, on the road and on his way to feed his addiction.

It was exhausting, honestly, having to constantly worry about his next score, the misery he felt if he went too long, and the steady drain of his money. He thought about quitting sometimes, but the knowledge that he would never feel as good as he did on coke again was a bit daunting. Right now he just needed more because he felt like a huge festering pile of shit and he knew the quickest way to feel better was through his nose. 

So he kept driving, focusing on his short term goal above all else. Baby steps.

\----

Karkat awoke to a suffocating smell of smoke, blinking in morning light that was impossible to hide from in the car. He found the source of the stench in short order; Bro had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, inhaling and blowing out smoke at regular intervals. Karkat gave a pointed cough. Bro turned his head slightly, then looked back to the road. 

“Fuck you, too,” Karkat muttered, and turned the window crank to roll it down a few inches. The roar of air rushing by filled the car, but Karkat felt like he could breathe now. 

Respiration restored, Karkat looked out the window, confused by what he saw. The sun was rising in front of them, which was a good sign, they were headed east. But the ground on either side of the road was a huge, flat expanse of white. It looked like snow or ice touched on the horizon by orange from the creeping sunrays, but the air coming in through the window was warm.

“Where are we?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Salt flats,” Bro said, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray in the center console between them. Oh, he vaguely remembered hearing about that. So they were in Utah. Karkat gazed over the strange landscape. It was kind of pretty. And of course, it wasn’t the inside of the brothel, or a hotel room that looked a little too similar to the inside of the brothel. He hadn’t seen so much open land in so long. There was an urge to jump out of the car and just go run across it, roll around in it.

He suppressed the compulsion and sat back in his seat, just enjoying being able to looks so far into the distance. His eyes were starting to water, probably because it was too bright. But also because it was so fucking beautiful. Maybe his friends from the brothel were able to see something like this. Including Nepeta, who had been there longer than any of them. She deserved to see the sky go on forever, and now she could. 

He buried his head into Bro’s suit jacket that he’d been using as a pillow, his shoulders shaking slightly. 

“What’s wrong? You carsick or something?” Bro asked. 

“I’m fine,” Karkat replied, then rethought. “I need to piss.”

Bro didn’t argue with him. Dad would have made him wait till they found a rest stop. Bro pulled right over and stopped the car. He got out, unfolding his tall frame to stand on the asphalt. “Hurry up,” he said as Karkat got out of the car. Karkat nodded and slid down the low bank on the side of the road.

His new shoes, bright white, uncomfortable sneakers from Wal-Mart, crunched against the pale ground, and when he scuffed his toe along it, the salt crust broke to show plain, brown dirt underneath. Karkat looked back up, his tears flowing a little more freely now that he was looking into the horizon, where the white ground met the light blue of the sky a million miles away. He could go anywhere, he wasn’t surrounded by four walls and awful people. 

He wiped his eyes and looked over his shoulder. Bro was leaning on the car, his left arm still held in an awkward position. He was probably wondering why Karkat wasn’t taking care of business. Karkat looked back down at the ground, where a few of his teardrops had landed to tint the ground pink. He lowered himself and sat with his legs crossed, just enjoying the feeling of the breeze rushing across the flat landscape, coming from far away to caress his damp face.

Just as he’d expected, not a minute later he heard Bro’s crunching footsteps approaching behind him. He kept facing forward, running his claws through the salt on the ground and ignoring the presence he felt next to him.

“We gotta go,” Bro said from above him.

“Just give me a minute.”

There was a pause. “You sure do cry a lot.”

“Leave me alone.”

Bro dropped his cigarette, and it fell into Karkat’s field of vision, spoiling the pristine, endless landscape before him. Bro’s shoe crushed the cigarette out and then he turned, his footsteps fading away. 

Karkat scowled at the flattened cigarette butt lying on the ground, black ash spilling from the end onto the white floor. He thought about picking it up, but in the end he left it there, standing up and returning to the car once he'd dried his eyes. At least one of them would get to enjoy the view.

They arrived in Salt Lake City around midmorning. Karkat called Dad from Bro’s phone again and managed to keep from sobbing as they talked. He could tell his father was holding back some kind of emotion as well, and Karkat didn’t mind it at all. When he hung up, Bro was pulling into a parking lot outside of what looked like a normal city park.

“Stay here,” Bro said, plucking his phone out of Karkat’s hand and opening the door.

“Where are you going?” Karkat asked, looking around for anything of interest.

“I’ll be right back, stay here.” Bro reiterated firmly, and stepped out, slamming the car door closed behind him.

Karkat crossed his arms, sulking as he watched Bro walk off across the grass. What the fuck was this asshole doing now? He continued to observe as Bro approached some rough looking trolls that were hanging out on a bench and started to talk to them. Karkat had a feeling he knew what was going on as Bro stepped in closer, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw one of the troll’s shake Bro’s hand, and Bro’s hand go to his pocket immediately after. So that’s why he’d plotted a course directly to Salt Lake City, so Bro could buy drugs. In broad daylight, no less.

Karkat chewed on his tongue. Bro had gotten him out of the brothel while high pretty handily. But he didn’t know if he trusted him to take him across the country on it. Then again, Bro was clearly used to functioning like this, and Karkat didn’t have a clue how intervene anyway. 

\------

Bro had to keep himself from sprinting to the car, had to look casual and at ease. He couldn’t be back in the driver’s seat soon enough, though, his fingers playing with the baggie in his pocket. It wasn’t going to be good quality, he knew that. You never got good shit from a park when you didn’t have any connections. But he wasn’t going to be able to get anything good until tonight. This would just have to hold him over.

He got back into the car, took a quick look around, and then hunched over in his seat, despite the pain that pulled at his stitches. He ignored Karkat’s glare as he opened the bag and poured out a small mound onto the back of his hand. He could deal with whatever the troll was going to say after he was high. 

Licking his lips in anticipation, he brought the bump on his hand to his nose and inhaled quickly, feeling the stuff rush up his sinuses and into his brain. He closed his eyes and waited for the euphoria, the feeling he’d come to depend on to get through his days and nights. He held his breath until a weak, almost worthless spark of pleasure pushed through him.

Shit. It was mostly flour. He had expected this, but it was still a monumental disappointment. If he did the rest of the bag now it might feel as good as a couple lines, but it wasn’t going to last him very long. He’d have to wait till the nightclubs opened to find better stuff.

Bro could feel Karkat’s eyes on him, judging him as he began to do the rest of the bag, but he paid no mind. As soon as he was high enough, he wouldn’t give a shit what Karkat thought about him. 

He was almost done with the entire contents of the bag when Karkat finally spoke up. “Isn’t that a lot?”

“It’s really weak,” Bro said, “It’s cut with other shit. Pretty much worthless, I got ripped off.”

Karkat shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “I’m hungry,” he said eventually.

“Let’s get you some food then,” Bro said once he’d polished off the plastic bag. He felt a little better. Slightly functional now, like he could exist without feeling like the world was about to end. He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, his brain finally feeling less scattered.

\---------

Karkat had been annoyed when he’d realized Bro was putting a pause on their trip to fuel his drug habit. He hadn’t minded too much when they stopped on a corner in a sketchy neighborhood and Bro left again. He had a hamburger to eat and he was content to relish in the flavors he’d missed for so long. But it soon became apparent that Bro intended to spend the whole day driving around town, looking for cocaine. 

Was it going to be like this every time they drove through a major city? It would take them weeks to get to Boston. Karkat just wanted to get home, to see his dad, to put all this behind him. But his caretaker had other things on his mind, and his priorities seemed to be severely out of place. 

Karkat had been sitting in the car for an hour in a downtown nightlife district when he decided enough was enough. He didn’t give a shit about what happened to the fucker, but he was damned if he was going to let Bro’s addiction keep him from getting home. 

He got out of the car and looked around, feeling a little exposed. Sure, he’d been fine when he was all alone on the salt flats, but now there were people all around. It felt entirely too similar to when he’d been grabbed on his way home from work in Boston. He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder every few seconds as he made his way down the sidewalk to the club he’d seen Bro disappear into.

The guy at the door didn’t ID him. Maybe he looked too haunted to be a teen. The idea that he’d been through enough to make him look like an adult flitted through his mind, but he focused on finding Bro as he stepped into the large dark room filled with pulsating bodies. It was loud, smelly, and crowded. Karkat tried not to be bothered as he searched through the club, looking for Bro’s blonde head or his brown leather jacket in the crowd. He checked the bar, tried to get a peek into the VIP area, and then finally went to the men’s bathroom. 

He realized he should have come here first. He recognized Bro’s shoes under the door from when it crushed that cigarette out this morning. There were two other pairs of feet crowded into the stall with him, and Karkat hesitated for a moment, listening to the fast chatter of low voices coming from inside, periodic inhalations. He knew well what three agitated, full grown men could do to the likes of him. 

But he couldn’t let that stop him. He wasn’t going to let people do that shit to him anymore, control him just because he was small and young. He couldn’t go from one shitty situation of being taken advantage of to another one, even if one was leaps and bounds better.

He pushed at the stall door, but it was locked. He knocked on it, and the voices inside went quiet. “Bro, open up,” Karkat demanded, kicking at the door now. After a moment the door opened a crack and he saw Bro’s face peeking out, a tight smirk on his face. He must be out of his mind fucked up, found the holy grail of powder.

“Come to join the party?” Bro asked, opening the door a bit wider. Karkat could see the other two men, one a human and one a troll, taking advantage of Bro’s absence to lean over the mirror they had set up on the toilet paper dispenser.

“Actually I came to end it,” Karkat said, pushing the door open a bit more. 

“What the fuck?” Bro said, stepping back a little and bumping into the guy behind him. 

“Hey watch it!” the man snapped as Bro nearly upset the precious coke mirror. 

“We don’t need this shit, asshole,” the troll said, and quickly made to shove Bro out of the stall.

“Fuck you!” Bro retorted and turned to shove the guy back. This was absolutely goddamn ridiculous, Karkat thought. He focused on the hole in Bro’s jacket and stepped forward, reaching up to push his thumb into it, putting pressure on the wound beneath.

Bro made an agonized, choked sound as Karkat pushed harder, knowing Bro was probably feeling numb and that he would need to use more force. The potential fight in the stall seemed to dwindle as Bro turned to deal with Karkat instead. Karkat grabbed hold of Bro’s shirt collar with one hand and dug his claws into Bro’s neck with the other. The guys in the stall didn’t want to have anything to do with this, and closed the door, probably happy to have one less coke fiend to share with.

Bro was grimacing as Karkat pulled him down, his claws threatening Bro’s jugular like he’d wanted to do to so many of his clients. “Listen to me,” he hissed, baring his fangs. “You need to get me home, and you need to do it now. My dad’s not going to be very happy if he knows you’re fucking around, getting high, leaving me alone in your shit car for hours at a time. I don’t give a fuck what you do with his money once I’m home, but I’m not going to let you keep doing this while I’m your responsibility.”

Bro’s hands had been moving, seeming to be wrestling with the urge to hit Karkat. But that part about responsibility seemed to strike a chord with him. Anything he did to Karkat was going to make it back to Spades Slick, one way or another. Karkat was flying by the seat of his pants, but he kept it up.

“Now you can either let me go and I’ll make my own way back to Boston, and you can say goodbye to your paycheck. Or you can take me there and get paid. And maybe I’ll help distract you from your little habit on the way.” He loosened his grip now, lifted his thigh to rub between Bro’s legs against his crotch. He knew Bro still wanted him, he’d admitted that much. And as much as he didn’t want to, Karkat knew how to make someone feel good while retaining his hatred for them. If he could keep Bro clean and focused by attending to his pathetic human cock, then so be it.


	7. Chapter 7

Bro was royally pissed with Karkat for interrupting his bathroom coke party with his two new best friends, no doubt about that. But he was also intrigued by what he was offering. Plus he didn’t want his payment disappearing along with Karkat if the kid struck out on his own. Sure, the claws at his neck were another factor, but he was riding high and right now it felt like nothing could hurt him.

“You little fucker,” he grumbled as Karkat dragged him out of the bathroom. He didn’t really blame the other two guys in the stall for not objecting to his departure. It was every man for himself when there was a limited amount of coke to go around. 

“You can take it out on my nook,” Karkat shot back, and it was certainly an appealing idea. As much as he knew he shouldn’t fuck around with Karkat when he was sober, it was a lot harder to deny that desire in him when he was high. He hadn’t fully been able to get the sound of his hand smacking against Karkat’s backside out of his head since that first night.

Karkat led him out of the club and onto the street, back to the car. “Okay, we gotta find a hotel room,” Bro said, starting the engine, his fingers restlessly tapping on the steering wheel. “Should be plenty on the highway on the way outta town. Then again there’s some kinda huge convention goin’ on, might have to look for awhile.”

“No,” Karkat said, and Bro looked down to see his hand around his forearm, those sharp claws threatening to puncture the leather of his sleeve. As if it wasn’t fucked up enough with the knife tear. “I’m not wasting anymore time here. Drive. While you’re still hopped up enough on that shit to stay awake.” Karkat had fished Bro’s phone out of his pocket and was tapping at it as he spoke. “You can do whatever you want to me once we’re out of Utah.” 

Karkat turned the phone around to show him a map, a long, long route directly from Salt Lake City to Boston. 2,367 miles. No stops for big cities, no baby steps. On the other hand, they weren’t far from leaving Utah and entering Wyoming. Shouldn’t be long at all until Karkat was holding up his end of the bargain.

Bro ground his teeth together, and not just because of the cocaine. But he nodded. Fine. He was amped up and horny as hell, but he could do this. The thought that Karkat was basically telling him he wasn’t going to be doing any more coke till they got to Boston hadn’t really penetrated, but it would eventually. But not now. Now he just needed to drive until they were in Wyoming and he could spank the fuck out of Karkat. He pulled out of the parking space and began finding his way to the Interstate. 

He’d gotten pretty good at driving in this condition, though he still tended to be rather aggressive and reckless. Luckily traffic was sparse. Bro continued to grind his teeth, fidget with the steering wheel, and flip indecisively through the radio stations. He didn’t mind that he had to spend the rest of his high driving through flat, dark landscapes. Cocaine tended to make doing anything great. Though he would have preferred being able to fuck while he was at the peak.

As they were leaving the city limits, Karkat turned around in his chair and started digging around in the back seat. “What’re you doing?” Bro asked, trying to see what the hell Karkat was looking for and keep his eyes on the road at the same time. He swerved slightly and Karkat smacked his shoulder without ceasing his search.

“Watch the fucking road!” Karkat snapped, and Bro complied. A moment later Karkat emerged, sitting back in his seat. Bro glanced over out of the corner of his eye to see that Karkat had found the tequila bottle he’d been keeping, and was unscrewing the top.

“Hey!” Bro pursed his lips in disapproval as Karkat tilted the bottle back to take a swig. The troll screwed his eyes shut and frowned as he swallowed, then went back for more.

“Shut up,” Karkat said after gasping for breath and coughing a few times. “We can buy you more anywhere. But I need it way more than you do right now.”

Bro didn’t dwell on what exactly Karkat meant by that. He just let Karkat drink and kept driving east, counting the miles to the state line.

\-----

Karkat didn’t notice they were out of Utah until Bro was bringing the car to a halt at a truck stop an hour later. The tequila got less disgusting the more he drank it, and soon he was in a comfortable stupor, watching the streetlights fly by with a small, absent-minded grin on his face. 

But when they stopped moving he turned to find Bro looking at him expectantly, undoing his seatbelt. Right. He’d made a promise. That’s why he’d started drinking, so he could stomach doing this sort of thing when he knew he didn’t have to and didn’t really want to.

He fumbled with his own seatbelt until Bro reached over and disengaged it for him. Karkat turned his face up to look at Bro’s and smirked when he saw the line of blood coming out of Bro’s left nostril. It had been there since they’d left the club, but he hadn’t said anything because fuck Bro. Now he ran his finger over his tongue in a sloppy motion and reached out to try to wipe the dried blood away. Bro jerked back reflexively as the claw approached his face and thunked the back of his head against the window. 

Karkat giggled. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in a long time and it made him laugh harder. Bro got out of the car and Karkat fell silent, looking down at the almost empty tequila bottle between his legs. He was surprised when Bro opened the passenger side door, and just managed to hold onto the bottle as he was pulled out by the shoulder.

“Where we goin’?” he asked as Bro helped him across the parking lot.

“They got private bathrooms,” Bro explained. 

“Wow, whatta fuckin’ genleman,” Karkat marveled, and then promptly tripped over a curb and crumpled to his knees.

“Fuck,” Bro muttered, as he tried to pick Karkat up. He grunted in pain, evidently having forgotten about his injured shoulder, and had to wait for Karkat to get steady on his feet again. Karkat vaguely thought that they must look like a pretty sorry-ass couple to anyone who happened to spot them. Two people who could barely move making their slow and steady way between the giant parked trucks to the building.

Karkat held onto the he of Bro’s leather jacket to keep himself upright. Bro fed dollar bills into the machine that would unlock one of the bathrooms that stood in a row on the side of the building. It was almost as if the place was made to accommodate quick, discreet sex.

A door opened and Bro led him inside, shutting the door behind him. It reminded Karkat of the bathrooms in the brothel. Just a sink, toilet, and shower. Would he ever find somewhere that didn’t remind him of the brothel? At least now it didn’t bother him so much. The alcohol was doing wonders for his mood.

“Soooo, wha’s Daddy want thistime?” Karkat slurred, leaning against the counter and numbly gazing at himself in the mirror, “Th’ usual? Spankin’ followed by fuckin’? The ol’ Degr’dation Special?” He watched Bro in the reflection as he stiffly removed his jacket and undid his belt. He didn’t have the same stoic, easy air when he’d been removing his fancy suit in the brothel that first time. Now he looked frustrated, tired, desperate. Karkat smiled to himself. 

“I want you to shut your mouth,” Bro said as he let his jacket fall to the floor. He had finally noticed his bloody nose in the mirror and licked his own finger to wipe it off

“Anythin’ you say Daddy,” Karkat replied. He set the tequila bottle on the edge of the sink, where it almost fell over. He caught it in time and moved it to safer position. Then he bent over, sticking his ass out for easy access and folding his arms on the countertop. He rested his head on his forearms, closed his eyes, and waited.

\-----

Bro’s high was starting to wear off, and with it his unshakeable optimism. It had been easy to fuck Karkat, to hit him and call him a slut when he had only just met him. When he was “taking a break” from his assignment to fuck a whore who also happened to be his target. 

But now, looking at Karkat bent over the truck stop bathroom counter, very drunk and still reluctant...Bro tried not to let it get to him. He’d been ready to fuck back in Salt Lake City and he was still ready to fuck. Moving up behind Karkat, Bro reached around him to undo his pants. They fell down his legs immediately, too big around his emaciated waist. 

Bro chewed on his tongue as he tugged down Karkat’s new black boxer shorts to reveal his ass, the grey skin marked with a few scars. Bro smacked Karkat across the buttocks, wanting to feel that sensation of transferring stress out of himself through kinetics.

“Uhn!” Karkat let out, jolting forward a few centimeters. Then he relaxed and pushed his backside back again, buried his head deeper in his arms. Bro did it again. And again and again. It wasn’t as good. The rush of satisfaction from controlling something wasn’t as strong. Like cocaine, it wasn’t as good as the first time he’d tried it, and maybe it never would be. 

It was probably because he wasn’t high enough, he told himself. Or maybe it was how Karkat was trying so hard to be absent. He wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

He leaned over Karkat, his hand rubbing softly against his asscheeks. “Tell me what you want to do to Daddy’s cock,” he prompted, teasing the edges of Karkat’s nook. It didn’t sound as good coming out of his mouth as it had a few nights ago. Maybe it was just the setting.

Karkat moaned, and not in a very appealing way. “I don’ fuckin’ know. Why don’ you tell me what I wanna do t’ Daddy’s cock?” 

Bro sighed. He gripped the back of Karkat’s neck and maneuvered him to straighten up, then sat him down on the toilet. “You want to suck it,” Bro said. He’d been curious about that filthy mouth and those sharp teeth ever since he’d probed them with his fingers.

“Uh huh, yup, sure do,” Karkat said, leaning back against the toilet tank and staring blankly at Bro’s groin. “C’mon Daddy take out yer big fat dick and lemme get my mouth all o’er it.” Bro rolled his eyes, but at least he knew Karkat’s mouth would soon be otherwise occupied. 

He pulled down his grey boxer briefs, glad that at least Karkat’s awful dirty talk wasn’t affecting his erection. He stepped forward, presenting it to Karkat. The troll looked at it for a moment, then took a deep breath and leaned forward.

A shiver went down Bro’s spine as he watched the head of his dick disappear between two rows of sharp fangs and black lips. He’d been both concerned and excited about the possibility that Karkat might not be able to control his teeth in this state. But even drunk off his ass, the troll was delicate and skilled, keeping his teeth shielded for the most part and massaging his tongue along the shaft. 

Every so often among the heat and wetness Bro would feel a graze, a momentary slip of control as one of Karkat’s teeth touched his sensitive skin. Each time it happened Bro would hiss, sucking air between his clenched teeth and tighten his grip on Karkat’s hair. It was hot as hell, knowing how easily Karkat could emasculate him and trusting for the most part that he wouldn’t. That little sliver of doubt made it feel all the more dangerous and thrilling.

When Karkat began to bob his head slowly up and down, Bro’s thumbs found Karkat’s horns and rubbed circles around the bases. As he kept it up, Karkat began to shiver under his fingers, and he made little pleading, whimpery sounds around Bro’s cock. It was incredibly alluring, and Bro kept it up until Karkat pulled back, gasping for breath. He looked up at Bro with confused, angry red eyes as he pried Bro’s hands off his head and relocated them to his shoulders. 

Bro tried to move his hands back to Karkat’s head when the troll continued, but every time he did Karkat would stop moving, making it clear that he wasn’t going to let Bro keep doing it. That was fine. The stimulation to his cock was more than enough to get Bro off.

As he neared his peak, Bro cupped his good hand under Karkat’s jaw, gripping to keep it open as he shoved himself deeping into Karkat’s throat. Karkat ceased going for tongue skills at this point, letting his jaw go slack and simply accepting what Bro pushed into him. His hands gripped the hem of his own shirt, pulling it down over his lap, probably to cover his bulge.

Bro continued to thrust his hips into Karkat’s mouth, until the troll began to gag and he was feeling those sharp little scrapes against him more often. It was either that or the sight of the tears of exertion leaking out of the corner of Karkat’s closed eyes that put him over the edge. Bro gripped the back of Karkat’s neck again, keeping himself deep in his mouth as he came, his hips quivering with euphoria. 

“Ah-fuck,” Bro breathed out, opening his eyes and catching a glimpse of the pair of them in the mirror. A bit of a step down from all the glitz and glamor of the illegal brothel in the desert, oral sex on a truck stop toilet. But at least Karkat was free now. That’s all that mattered, right?

Bro carefully drew himself out of Karkat’s mouth. As soon as his mouth was no longer obstructed, Karkat began coughing and gasping. Bro put his cock away and zipped his fly up before he moved a hand over to pat Karkat on the back to help him clear his throat.

He started to kneel down, moving the hand around to Karkat’s groin, intending to jerk him off. However, Karkat grabbed his wrist and moved it away as he continued to try and clear his windpipe.

“Hrk- No...don’t need-- khh...’m fine.” Despite his words, Bro could clearly see Karkat’s red bulge writhing for attention under the edge of his shirt. But whatever, Bro wasn’t going to make Karkat do something he didn’t want to. 

He stood up straight and buckled his belt, then lifted his shirt to try to get a look at his wound in the mirror. It was hard to twist his head the right way to get a good look. It throbbed dully, probably due to the exertion. He wasn’t about to ask Karkat to remove the bandage and take a look at it, especially when he was drunk. Instead, Bro leaned down and collected his jacket, carefully threading his injured arm through the sleeve.

Karkat was pulling his pants on with little success with one hand, much more successfully downing the last of the tequila with the other. Bro took the bottle from him when it was empty, letting Karkat pull on his pants and mutter to himself. Watching the troll was bringing on the usual wave of post-coital regret much faster, and Bro disregarded the “No Smoking” sign to light a cigarette. 

Finally Karkat was dressed and standing slowly, gripping the counter to steady himself. “Let’s go,” he said, voice rasping and weak. He didn’t look quite as carefree as had on the way in. Bro put a hand under his arm to keep him upright and opened the door out into the parking lot. 

Bro wished he could just pick Karkat up and carry him to the car, but his shoulder wasn’t going to allow that. So he had to walk slowly, letting Karkat’s sluggish, uncoordinated legs keep up with him as they plodded across the lot. They were almost to the car when Karkat stopped short.

“C’mon,” Bro growled, ready to get out of here.

“I- hold on... ’m…” Karkat mumbled, then suddenly doubled over and retched. There was a sickly wet splash as his vomit hit the pavement. A pitiful groan followed. Bro rubbed at the bridge of his nose and dropped his cigarette to the ground. He stepped on it as he leaned over to lift Karkat up with one arm wrapped under his chest. 

Karkat was shaking in his grasp, but leaned against Bro. “Sorry,” he said with a sniffle, and Bro could tell he was crying again. 

“It’s fine,” Bro said, and opened the car door. He put Karkat into the seat and then cranked down the window. “If you’re gonna puke again try to aim it outside. I’ll be right back.”

\---------

Karkat nodded and leaned his head on the open window, closing his eyes and frowning. God, he felt like shit. He’d gotten this drunk a few times, when one of the kids at the brothel would manage to get ahold of a bottle and share it with the rest of them.

Karkat wondered how Eridan was doing. Once the sea-dweller had drunk too much and thrown up on a client during a line up. That hadn’t gone over well. He hoped Eridan was back with his family by now. And the rest of them...

Something pressed against his lips and Karkat opened them automatically, bracing himself for another bodypart forcing its way into him. Instead cool, clean water ran over his tongue and down his throat, soothing the burn from the vomit. “Mmn,” Karkat hummed appreciatively and drank.

The water started to retreat, but Karkat made a noise of protest, forgetting that he could have used his hands. The pressure on his lips returned along with the water, and Karkat drank it until the sick, hot feeling in his stomach was replaced with a cold comfort. The sensation of warm fingers stroking through his hair was the last thing he felt before he passed out again.


	8. Chapter 8

Instead of cigarette smoke, Karkat woke up to the smell and sound of rain hitting the ground. He opened his eyes to see a small field of trees through the windshield, hazy in the midmorning shower. He looked to the driver’s seat and found it empty. He panicked for a moment, but it didn’t take him long to find Bro, laying across the back seats with his overlong legs sticking out the rolled down window. It was a good thing they were parked under an overhang or Bro’s feet would have been soaked.

Karkat stretched, rubbing his eyes, thankful for the lack of a hangover. Maybe it was because he was young, or because he’d had plenty of water before he’d passed out. Once he’d gotten over the disorientation of waking up in a strange place again, Karkat began to go about getting his bearings. Even though his memories of last night were fuzzy, he could tell this wasn’t the truck stop where he had sucked Bro off. It looked to be a basic rest area with bathrooms, a vending machine, and a copse of trees for weary travellers to walk around. Had Bro kept driving once Karkat had passed out? Where were they now?

He turned around in his seat to look for Bro’s phone, but stopped short when he got a better look at the man in the back seat. Bro was scrunched up on his side, probably in consideration of his shoulder, and his hand was conspicuously settled on his gun holster, like he was ready to pull the pistol on anyone who disturbed his slumber. 

Considering how hard it was to wake up a post-cocaine-binge Bro, however, Karkat doubted it was for anything but show. Just a measure to dissuade anyone who might see two sleeping people in a car with rolled down windows as an easy target. Still, Karkat hesitated as he reached over to search Bro’s pockets, glancing at the unhappy looking face for any signs he might be waking. It was pretty hard to tell with those fucking sunglasses. But he was pretty sure Bro wouldn’t shoot him. He’d be in big fucking trouble if Karkat ended up dead after he’d been confirmed safe to his dad.

Karkat carefully checked one pocket of the brown leather jacket, then the other, finally finding the phone in an inside pocket, right next to the pistol. He let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he slid back into the front seat and turned the phone on. 

According to the GPS, they were out of Wyoming and well into Nebraska now. Karkat frowned. He’d been drunk or passed out through the whole state. Not that he minded, these states were all pretty dull and flat. It just seemed strange that Bro would drive so long after he’d fulfilled his promise to get to Wyoming. Maybe he’d been too hopped up to stay there or something, eager to do something, even if it was just driving through endless dark flatlands. 

Karkat was glad, of course, whatever the reasons. He was that much closer to home. Karkat opened the car to move his stiff legs and call his father, making the effort to close the door somewhat quietly. Sleeping in the car was really uncomfortable. But with the conditions beforehand, and the time it saved to skip hotels, he wasn’t complaining too much. 

He walked under the covered strip of mostly empty parking spaces as he found his dad in the contacts and called, gazing out at the wet highway and listening to the rain hitting the metal awning. 

“Yeah? Karkat?” Slick’s voice came over the phone and Karkat smiled in spite of himself. His father had come to expect that a call from Bro’s phone most likely meant it was Karkat checking in.

“Hi Dad,” Karkat said.

“Hey kiddo. Where are you?”

“We’re in Nebraska,” Karkat replied, “It’s really fucking boring looking.”

“Nebraska? What the hell’s taking so long?” Spades said irritably, and Karkat could sympathize. It had been something like five days since he’d been sprung from the brothel. He should be in Boston by now, home. But of course there were complications; Karkat’s insistence on freeing the other kids, which he’d already explained to Dad, and then the delays caused by Bro’s habit. 

“Oh, it’s just…” Karkat paused, staring at the soles of Bro’s shoes sticking out of the window of the car. He could explain what was going on, get Bro in trouble...but he was still grateful to Bro in a begrudging way, for freeing him, for freeing the others, for taking him home. “I’ve been kind of slowing things down. Like I wanna see all the sights and tourist traps. And...the food, it’s so fucking good, Dad,” he said truthfully. That had been one of the best parts, even if it was mostly just hamburgers.

“Oh, yeah, I get it,” Slick said, his voice softening a bit. But Karkat could hear a hint of sad impatience. 

“But I’ll stop, so we can get there as soon as possible. I really miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“You’ve got no clue how relieved I am you’re okay.” But Karkat did have a bit of an idea, because Dad said this every time he called, and Karkat was relieved too, though he wasn’t sure if “okay” was a word he’d use. 

“I love you, Dad, I’m gonna go tell Bro I’m ready to go.”

“You too. See you soon.”

“See you.” Karkat ended the call, still unable to keep himself from sniffling a bit. He went to the bathroom, which was really gross. But at least the metal toilets and brick stalls didn’t remind him of the brothel. He bought a bag of chips from the vending machine and savored them as he sat on a bench and watched the rain shower pass through. He stayed where it was dry for the most part, but couldn’t help but step out a few times, just to feel the drops falling on his skin.

Once the rain had stopped Karkat went back to the car, finding Bro right where he’d left him. He would wake him up, they would drive till night, Karkat would make Bro stop somewhere to get some alcohol (something that didn’t taste awful) and then he’d let Bro have his way again. And repeat till they got to Boston. Easy. He could do that. Sex didn’t mean a damn thing to him anymore, he told himself as he looked through the window Bro’s head was resting against. Especially if he could get drunk for it.

He reached through the window and took ahold of Bro’s shoulder, shaking it. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy to wake him up, but he was still wary of the hand that was on that gun. The hand that had spanked him, choked him, gripped his hair, killed six people with the very gun it was sitting on top of. Expertly picked a lock blind, twisted inside him in a way that had caused a flood of arousal and nausea, wrapped around his needy bulge, freed him, his friends. 

Karkat swallowed, feeling himself heat up. Seriously, fuck this guy. He reached under his back and found the tender wound and pushed. Bro squirmed, whined in his sleep, trying to make it stop without having to regain consciousness. But Karkat kept it up, and soon Bro was gasping, sitting up and hitting his head on the low roof. 

“Ow, fuck,” he groaned, fumbling for the gun until he realized it was just Karkat. “You know there are more polite ways to wake someone up,” he said, voice gravelly and cracking.

“I tried them all,” Karkat said, crossing his arms. “C’mon, it’s time to go.”

“Says who?” Bro replied, laying back down and rubbing his eyes.

“Says my dad.” Karkat tossed the phone, letting it land heavily on Bro’s crotch. Bro hissed and picked it up, checking the time. 

“Shit...gimme five more minutes?”

Karkat sighed. It was like pulling teeth. Either Bro was wasting time looking for his next fix or he was sleeping through his withdrawal. There didn’t seem to be a way to win.

\-----

Bro went to the bathroom, washed his face with the shitty timed faucets, and looked at himself in the dirty mirror, then prodded gently at his wound. It was never going to heal if Karkat kept jamming his fingers into it. 

He still felt like shit when he got back to the car. Karkat was sitting on the hood, eating a chocolate bar and giving him that bratty, expectant look.

“Can you drive?” Bro asked, and Karkat’s expression changed to one of confused uncertainty. 

“I had my learner’s permit before I got taken,” he said, looking back at the car.

“It’s easy,” Bro said, moving to the passenger side before Karkat could argue too much. The highway was pretty deserted thanks to them being in the middle of nowhere, and the road was as straight as could be. “I’ll teach you,” he said, yawning. He was planning on dropping back to sleep as soon as Karkat had the hang of it.

The troll slipped off the hood of the car and made his unsure way to the driver’s side. He sat in the seat, and after adjusting it forward and up as far as it would go, he bundled up Bro’s all-purpose suit jacket to raise him up in the seat just a little more. 

“Okay, keep your foot on the brake pedal while you turn the ignition,” Bro said, leaning on his good shoulder and crossing his arms. 

“I know how to do that,” Karkat snapped, then let his fangs push against his bottom lip as he looked down at the pedals. It was pretty cute, if possibly deadly. But with Bro’s mood and motivation for active self-preservation at it’s lowest, he didn’t care too much about the consequences.

The engine turned over and Karkat craned his neck to look out the rear window as he backed out. He frowned down at the wheel as the car gave a warning beep.

“Handbrake,” Bro said, tapping the lever behind the shifter. 

“Oh,” Karkat muttered and pushed it down. He shifted back into drive and began to inch the car forward uncertainly.

“Any of this feel familiar?” Bro asked.

“This car is a piece of shit,” Karkat replied, concentrating on the road ahead with an intense stare.

“Maybe you’re just a shit driver,” Bro suggested. This car had gotten him all the way across the country, after all. He reached over to adjust Karkat’s hands to a better position. The troll flinched, and Bro pursed his lips. “Calm down.”

Karkat took a deep breath and let Bro move his hands, looking at the highway in front of them with apprehension.

“Just stay in the right lane for now,” Bro said, “But don’t go 15 miles an hour. We’re trying to get somewhere.”

Karkat nodded. He was clearly not confident in this, but Bro could tell he wanted to do it. That he wanted to undergo this teenage rite of passage. If it meant Bro could get a nap, he was all for it. Karkat pushed his foot against the accelerator and crept out onto the highway.

After about twenty miles, Karkat seemed to have remembered his lessons from a year ago, and was even going faster than fifty miles per hour. 

“See, you got this,” Bro said, catching a ghost of a smile on Karkat’s lips. He shifted in his chair and tilted the seat back, shutting his eyes for a hopefully long nap.

Karkat only slapped him to wake him up this time, and he looked much more cheerful than usual. “Hey, we’re in Des Moines. Iowa. And we need gas.” Bro grumbled and dug a few dollars out of his wallet. Karkat took them and practically skipped out of the car into the gas station they were parked at. He was clearly ecstatic over his ability to drive. Bro tried to be happy for him over the pessimism his fried brain was oozing. 

The kid had driven for about six hours according to the time, and now they were almost halfway to Boston. Of course now they’d be getting into the heavier traffic of the eastern US. They wouldn’t just be breezing down the highway like they had been. 

While Karkat pumped gas into the car, Bro stretched as much as he could, wishing he had some cocaine. He was just starting to come to terms with the deal Karkat had laid out last night. The worst of his craving would be over after a few days, a week at most, but it would probably take just as long to deliver Karkat. By the time they got to Boston, Bro would probably be mostly okay aside from the more subtle longing that could last for years afterwards. 

And the other part of the deal...looking back on last night, fooling around with Karkat had been pretty depressing. Was it going to be like that for the rest of the trip? It was pretty easy to take advantage of when he was high. But when he was sober it was much harder to delude himself, to take Karkat without much concern.

“Are you hungry?” Karkat asked when he got back into the car.

“Sure,” Bro replied, because he was fucking starving.

Karkat guided the car through a nearby drive-through with barely-disguised glee, and they ate their hamburgers in relative silence. When they were done, Bro was trying to get comfortable again in his seat while Karkat adjusted all the mirrors again like they had changed somehow since they’d last been touched.

“Do you want me to check your back?” Karkat asked once he noticed Bro’s discomfort.

“Sure,” Bro said, taking off his jacket with care. He looked out at the cars passing on the highway while Karkat lifted his shirt, grimaced at the pressure of Karkat feeling around the edges. 

“There’s some bruising,” Karkat said.

“Wonder how that happened.” 

“I think you’re tattoo’s going to be messed up.”

“It’s a shit tattoo anyway,” Bro said, leaning against the headrest and closing his eyes as Karkat fiddled with the first aid kit. 

“Why’d you get it?” Karkat asked before dabbing the wound with alcohol, causing Bro to stifle a hiss, surprise more than anything else.

“I was an idiot.”

“Drunk?”

 

“That too.”

Karkat reapplied bandaging and lowered Bro’s shirt. As he was putting away the first aid kit Bro asked, “You wanna keep driving?” He still felt like hot garbage and wanted to sleep some more. 

“Okay,” Karkat said, failing to not sound eager about it.

Bro tilted his seat back again and let the sound of the tires humming on the road lull him back to sweet sleep.

He woke up almost naturally the next time, the glow of fluorescent light pushing against his eyelids and Karkat nudging him in the ribs. 

“Hey, wake up. It’s your turn. I don’t wanna drive in the dark.”

“Mf,” Bro grunted, reluctantly opening his eyes. “Where are we?”

“Outside Chicago,” Karkat said. They had made some pretty good time today, it seemed. 

As he came to his senses, Bro realized they were parked in front of a brightly lit liquor store. 

“Go get me a bottle of Kahlua,” Karkat said as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Why?” Bro asked, undoing his as well.

He could see Karkat’s lips moving, chewing his tongue behind them. “We’re outside of Chicago,” he repeated, “Drive through and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh.” He could find coke in Chicago in no time, and apparently that’s what Karkat was worried about. So he was going to get drunk so he could stand for Bro to touch him instead. When he was high last night, it had been a very appealing proposition. He’d booked it to the state line just to cash in the favor. But now he was low as hell and the idea of putting his dick in a wasted, verge-of-tears Karkat was just sad. He sighed, rubbing his temple. “You don’t have to do that.”

“What?” Karkat said, distrust obvious in his voice. 

“I said don’t worry about it. I’ll drive through.”

Half of Karkat’s face was lit by the white glare of the liquor store as he scowled at Bro. 

“You’re a terrible lay when you’re drunk,” Bro said.

“Fuck you.” 

Bro shrugged. “We switching or what?” He watched Karkat’s jaw working, and finally he opened the car door. Bro got out as well and they passed each other in silence, though Bro continued walking, and entered the liquor store.

\-------

Karkat buckled his seatbelt, stewing in the passenger seat. He couldn’t understand it. Why was Bro refusing his offer? Because he was bad at sex when he was drunk? Then why didn’t he just do it anyway without Karkat being drunk? He hadn’t had a problem doing that in the brothel. And why did Karkat give so much of a shit? Why did he have to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Bro came back out to the car and got in. He handed Karkat a candy bar (the same kind he’d been eating this morning) and opened up the pack of cigarettes he’d gotten for himself. “Ready?” he asked. Karkat just looked out the window, not sure why he was acting so offended about this. Bro grunted and shifted a bit, pulling the suit jacket out from under him and tossing it to Karkat. 

Bro pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. Karkat half expected him to stop in downtown Chicago, deciding he preferred coke to Karkat’s drunk payment. So even though he was exhausted from an exhilarating day of driving, he stayed alert until they were on the other side of Chicago. He kept looking at Bro, waiting for his betrayal, but it never came. He just kept driving and smoking, mercifully keeping the window cracked.

Eventually the fatigue and hum of the road caught up with Karkat and he drifted off.

“Come on,” Bro was saying, dragging him out of the car. No, it couldn’t be his turn already. He was still so tired. Karkat groaned and tried to fight him off, but Bro was persistent. “Come on,” He said again. “We’re sleeping in a hotel.”

“Huh? Why? ’m fine in the car.” Karkat’s legs felt like jelly as he stepped onto the parking lot pavement. Not unlike last night when he was drunk. 

“Good for you,” Bro said, supporting Karkat until he could walk on his own. He led Karkat up to the second floor of the motel and unlocked the door. He nudged Karkat inside and closed the door behind them.

As the fog in his brain finally cleared, Karkat started to wonder if Bro had brought him here to fuck him. Why did he have to be such a bastard? Couldn’t he have just let him drink? It wasn’t like he had to do anything except say “Daddy” and kneel on all fours. Karkat could do that when he was practically unconscious.

The room was cold, and there was only one bed. Karkat’s dread grew and Bro shed his jacket and shirt. “They only had single beds,” Bro said, “I’m gonna shower. You can wait for your turn or just go to bed.”

Still confused, Karkat sat on the bed, staring at the terrible floral print. He was wary, but still exhausted. If Bro wanted to fuck with him he’d wake him up, and if didn’t... all the better, he could just sleep through it. 

He took off his shirt, shoes, and pants (the ones he’d been wearing for four days now) and tried to adjust the air conditioner. But it seemed to be stuck spewing out an icy cold breeze. So he just crawled under the covers and drew them up to his nose. It did feel nice to sleep in a real bed instead of the car. 

A bit later through the haze of sleep, the covers moved, the mattress dipped, and Karkat could sense another presence; clean-smelling and warm. He unconsciously moved towards it, willing to take any source of heat in the freezing room. This was nice, he thought vaguely. It reminded him of the platonic comfort he and the other kids would take with each other, snuggling up together to provide the affection they were severely deprived of. Karkat was out like a light in seconds.


	9. Chapter 9

Bro couldn’t take another night in the car, his back was still sore from contorting himself into the back seat yesterday. So he’d opted for the motel. They could get to Boston tomorrow if they made good time, and not spending money on coke meant he had plenty to drop on a good night’s sleep, which was all he really wanted (aside from cocaine). 

He was fully prepared to sink into more of that blissful, craving-free unconsciousness when Karkat scooted over and pressed his cold, slight body against him. Bro immediately tensed up, looking down at the troll, who seemed to be fast asleep. It was the most surprising thing the kid had done, and Bro wasn’t sure how to react. If Karkat was conscious this never would have happened. The kid was prickly and standoffish, clearly not a fan of any kind of contact, even terrified of it when he wasn’t expecting it.

But his actions now suggested that despite his grouchy misanthropic exterior, there was some part of him that craved contact. Probably the part of him that was starved for any real sort of affection thanks to his captivity. Or maybe he was just cold. It was freezing in here after all.

And that was the main reason Bro didn’t move away, even though he knew Karkat was looking for comfort in the wrong place by snuggling up to him. Even though he knew himself that it wasn’t a good idea to put himself into a situation like this, one that reminded him of the kid brother who hadn’t talked to him in years.

It was just for the night. They would reach Boston tomorrow and then Bro would be on his way. He pulled the covers up and found a comfortable position on his side as Karkat’s body finally began to reach a warmer temperature, providing a mutual source of heat. 

\------

Karkat felt warm. It was nice. He was still thinking about Eridan, about sleeping against him and feeling comforted, if not necessarily safe. The feel of skin against his that wasn’t hitting, wasn’t restraining or pulling. It was just there for him.

He kept his eyes closed as he snuggled closer, and soon realized that he was aroused. His bulge was out and writhing, pushing against his underwear and trying to get direct contact with the other body. This was familiar too. Sometimes he and Eridan would help each other out. It was gentle and pleasant because they wanted it and weren’t being forced.

Karkat sighed gently to himself as he started to rub himself against that warmth, still mostly asleep. There would be a mess when he woke up, but he hardly cared right now. He just wanted to keep this going, draw out the simple, easy pleasure until it reached it’s natural conclusion. 

He was just starting to get really into it when a very un-Eridan-like grunt made him stop, jolt awake. He opened his eyes to see himself reflected in those stupid sunglasses that Bro even wore to bed. Karkat immediately jerked away, rudely pulled out of his pleasant experience. Shit, shit, shit.

He was ready to defend himself, to tell Bro it was just a mistake, that there was no way he wanted to do anything like that with him if he didn’t have to. He scooted all the way to the edge of the bed and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

But Bro didn’t move. His chest rose and fell slowly. He was still asleep. Of course. Karkat should have known Bro was a heavier sleeper than to wake up from a little pressure. He breathed a sigh of relief, and once the panic had passed, his bulge twitched in his underwear again, missing the contact that had just disappeared. Damnit.

He wished Eridan were here. He was really good at getting Karkat off. But Eridan was halfway across the country now. Even further if he was home. He’d said something about living in California. Karkat hoped he was home, safe with his family. 

He was about to get up and go take care of himself when he hesitated. He looked at Bro’s sleeping body, turned towards him to keep his injured shoulder from pressing against the mattress. Karkat wondered what he did to stay in shape (aside from cocaine). He hadn’t seen him do much aside from drive and sleep in the past few days. Still, his stomach was smooth and taut, lines of definition etched out on his abdomen.

Karkat hadn’t gotten off since that night, when Bro had blown him up against the door. Bro had tried to reciprocate in that truck stop bathroom, but Karkat had refused, not wanting to give Bro the satisfaction of giving him pleasure. Of showing him that it was something his body wanted. 

But now Bro was asleep, wouldn’t wake up unless Karkat really tried. Plus, he felt like Bro owed him for all those times he’d used him for his own purposes. It was petty as hell, but he sort of liked the idea of knowing that he had gotten one over on Bro while he was none the wiser.

This was a stupid plan, but he was horny and always angry, so he slipped his underwear down and moved closer, inching forward until he was right up against him. His bulge closed the millimeters between them, drawn to the promise of heat that Bro’s body gave off. It quickly found its niche, fitting itself in the valley between Bro’s abdominal muscles and writhing to increase the friction.

Karkat bit his lip as he started to pant, keeping his eyes on Bro’s face, watching for any signs that he might be waking up. It felt so good, humping up against Bro’s midriff like a wanton animal. The knowledge that he probably definitely wasn’t supposed to be doing this made it even hotter. He put his claws on Bro’s chest, wanting to scratch but not daring to. He was being much more gentle than when he usually tried to rouse Bro, but he didn’t want to risk leaving a mark that Bro might find later.

As he continued to thrust against Bro, however, his self control began to falter, and he dug his claws in a bit, dragging them down and leaving lighter streaks in their wake. He wanted to draw blood, to bite Bro, make him groan in pain and maybe even a little bit in pleasure. But he couldn’t go any harder than this. He had to keep a hold of himself, make sure he didn’t come and mess up the bed. He really wanted to though. He wanted to get his genetic fluid all over Bro, make him wake up in a sticky puddle and have to deal with it. 

With a whimper, Karkat finally pulled away, wrapping his hand around his undulating bulge. He rolled out of bed and quickly darted to the bathroom, turning on the shower. He leaned against the tile and let the water nearly scald him as he finished, letting the red fluid run down the drain.

As the euphoria faded away he took a few deep breaths. That had been...confusing. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. Moreover, he didn’t understand why he should feel guilty about doing that to someone like Bro. But he did.

He tried to push it out of his mind. He would wake Bro up and then Karkat would take the first shift driving. He really liked driving. It took his full concentration, leaving little room to think about much else. He liked increasing the distance between himself and that place.

\-----

It was Bro’s turn to drive now. They were about four hours out of Boston now, switching places in Syracuse, New York. Bro could tell Karkat was anxious. Either because they were getting close to home or because of something else. He seemed even more standoffish than usual. Maybe it was because he’d woken up so close to Bro. Well, if he brought it up Bro would be quick to tell him that Karkat had done that entirely of his own accord. 

He yawned, still feeling fatigued. Closer to Boston meant closer to getting the job done, getting paid, and getting more coke. This was definitely one of the biggest jobs he’d ever undertaken, and he would be glad when it was over.

The car was at a crawl thanks to a wreck up ahead, and Karkat was sighing loudly, clearly not impressed with a delay like this when they were so close. Finally he spoke up, but it wasn’t at all what Bro had expected.

“You should work for my dad,” he said, still looking out the passenger window.

“What?” Bro took his eyes off the bumper of the car ahead of him to look at the troll.

Karkat glanced over, then quickly turned away again once he realized Bro was looking at him. “I said...you should ask my dad if you can work for him. He’s always looking for...people.”

Bro furrowed his brow, turned to face the front again when a car honked for him to move up, of course he only went a few feet before he had to stop again. “Why?” He honestly couldn’t figure out why Karkat was suggesting this. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Karkat shifted in his seat, keeping his gaze firmly focused on the window.

“Your car is a trash heap. And your clothes. You could afford better stuff if you worked for Dad. Do you even get steady work as a P.I.?”

“Thought you didn’t give a shit about what happened to me once you got home,” Bro pointed out.

Karkat was quiet for a bit. “I’m just making a fucking suggestion,” he finally said.

“What exactly would I be doing for your dad?” Bro asked.

“You’d probably be doing the same sort of thing. And like, standard gang shit, I guess? Collections. Transport...Bodyguard.”

“Whose bodyguard?” Bro thought he might be starting to understand what Karkat was saying. But he still couldn’t figure out why he was saying it. He’d thought Karkat would never want to see him again after this.

“How the hell should I know? Anyone’s.” He had nearly turned his whole body away from Bro, facing the window like he was trying to phase through it.

“That sounds like a really fuckin’ bad idea,” Bro said. 

“Why?”

Bro decided not to go with the obvious reason. “You think your dad wants to hire someone with uh…” He chewed on his tongue. “You know, a habit? Do they deal in cocaine?” If the Midnight Crew ran drugs, they probably wouldn’t want anyone near the operation that was inclined to dip into the supply.

Karkat finally looked at him, and Bro kept his face forward, though he still glanced at Karkat out of the corner of his eye. “Dad doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that. I’m just saying you obviously know how to use a gun, and you don’t seem to give a shit about killing people when someone tells you to. You’re probably just the kind of guy my dad’s looking for.”

Bro didn’t reply. He didn’t want to consider it, but he was. Karkat had a point. This was the most interesting case he’d gotten in a while. Usually it was overwhelmingly about cheating spouses. Long hours sitting in his car waiting to snap a photo of a philandering couple coming out of a hotel room. And it didn’t pay much, despite the fact that he was self employed. And then there was the possibility that the Crew were involved with drugs. It would be direct access to all the coke he could pull up his nose. He would just have to make sure he didn’t get caught. Seemed like a pretty big risk though. He’d probably be killed if he was discovered.

And then there was the matter of Karkat. The kid obviously hated him (unless he was half asleep and cold) and hanging around didn’t seem like the best option. Karkat had a history of using Bro’s previous actions against him to get what he wanted. Maybe that’s why he wanted to keep Bro around, for leverage. 

The kid was pretty damn wily if that was his angle. He would have Bro in the palm of his hand for as long as he was working for The Crew. He could tell Slick Bro had fucked his son at any point. Bro had been looking forward to finishing this job, washing his hands of it so he could disappear from the Slick family radar and not worry about that bit of blackmail Karkat seemed to love holding over him.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

\--------

Karkat didn’t know what the hell he was thinking, asking Bro to work for his dad. Except that he knew Bro was good at his job. That even though he was a jerk, an addict, and a predator, he had gotten Karkat out of the worst situation he could imagine mostly unscathed. He was better than the people at the brothel, that was for sure. So he’d just floated the suggestion. Bro probably wouldn’t even take his advice. 

So at least he’d tried to show his gratitude. There was nothing else he could do aside from that. It was all in Bro’s hands. And he was both dreading and anticipating the possibility that he might see more of Bro after this.

However, they were getting closer and closer to Boston, and it was getting harder to think about anything except home. About his father. Even about his dad’s incompetent associates. Sure he had talked to his dad over the phone, but now he was going to see him, to hug him. He couldn’t wait.

At the same time, he was a little worried. What if Dad or the others thought he was dirty or something now? He hadn’t told him exactly what had happened at the brothel, but if Bro didn’t tell him, surely he would have figured it out if he saw the news. A whore was still a whore, unwilling or not. That idea had been drilled into his head for eleven months by the trainer and the clients, even Bro. He’d basically been a virgin before, and now he was the furthest thing from one. 

He knew that Dad probably wouldn’t care or think less of him. But what if he did? And what if the others saw him differently? He wished he could stop thinking about this sort of thing, but as they crossed into Massachusetts it kept adding to the overwhelming stew of emotions inside him. Karkat knew his anxiety was showing, Bro kept looking over at him. At least he was fairly certain he didn’t suspect anything about what Karkat had done this morning. That was the last thing he needed on top of everything else.

As they started to enter the Boston city limits, Karkat could no longer keep his emotions in check. The familiar streets and buildings were bringing uncontrollable tears to his eyes, and he buried his face into Bro’s suit jacket. The thing was beyond dirty by now. Bro was going to have to get it dry-cleaned. 

He could hear the voice of Bro’s GPS guiding him down streets that became more and more well known. Streets he’d walked down every day on his way to school, to work, home. Home. He was shaking when he finally felt the car come to a stop. 

“Alright, we’re here,” Bro was saying. But Karkat felt like he could barely breathe.

He looked up at the townhouse where he’d grown up. The place he’d been dreaming of for almost a year. He put his hand on the seat belt release, but he couldn’t bring himself to press it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting towards the end here!


	10. Chapter 10

Now what? Bro thought to himself as he watched Karkat stall. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly be holding him back now, when Bro had delivered him right to his front door.

“Something wrong?” he asked, shutting off the ignition. Karkat took his hand off the seatbelt and sat back in the seat. 

“I’m fine,” Karkat replied, rubbing at the tears on his face with the heels of his palms.

“Well? Did I take you to the wrong house or something?”

“No...this is it. I just…”

Bro thought he could sense another wave of waterworks coming up. He sighed and lit a cigarette. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re home now. You’ll go back to school and see all your friends and go to parties and all that shit. You’ll get your first kiss and lose your virginity and it’ll be super awkward.”

Karkat turned to look at him, his teeth bared. “You want me to act like none of that ever happened? You, of all people! You’re such a fucking bastard.” With that he grabbed his seatbelt and unlocked it, then pushed open the door and stomped up the steps to the townhouse. Bro watched him pause at the door, refusing to look back but still hesitant. Finally, he lifted his hand to the doorbell and rang it.

He looked small and alone standing there for the few seconds he waited, holding Bro’s scrunched up suit jacket under his arm. Bro frowned, looked up and down the sidewalk, but no one was around. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little paranoid about the kid’s safety. Finally the door opened and there was his client, Spades Slick, wrapping Karkat up in his arms, pulling him inside. The door shut behind them and Bro breathed out a smoke-filled sigh. Alright. Target delivered.

He didn’t really feel like being part of that family reunion just yet, so he sat in the car, finishing his cigarette and stuffing it into the overflowing ashtray. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found his usual dealer. “back in town. looking to buy.” His finger hovered over the “send” button, and he looked back up at the townhouse.

He had gotten through the worst of his withdrawal. Life didn’t seem quite so hopeless now. He hadn’t really noticed the lack of weighty depression because it had waned so gradually over the past few days. He could probably kick his habit now if he really tried. If he wanted to try. 

Bro idly wondered what was going on in the house as he weighed the pros and cons of getting clean. There was the obvious benefit to his bank account, and he could avoid the inevitable deviated septum. 

But there was also the crushing mundanity of sobriety, the knowledge that he would never feel as good as he felt when he was high. He knew there would be cravings for the rest of his life, a near-constant temptation to just end the struggle and go back to what felt good, what was familiar. Why bother?

He’d been sitting here, staring at his phone for what must have been ten minutes, and a knock at the window startled him. There was a huge wall of a body filling up the entire frame, and Bro stuffed his phone in his pocket as he rolled the window down.

“Boss wants to talk to you,” the thug said. Bro recognized him as the largest of Slick’s cronies. Maybe Karkat had told his dad what had happened and this guy was going to escort him to his execution. Well...why not? Bro didn’t know what the hell else to do. A nothing-to-lose sort of situation, he might as well accept whatever he had coming to him. 

“Okay,” he said, opening the door, only to have it collide with the big guy. It took a moment to get him to realize that he needed to step back so that Bro could comply, but soon they were heading up the steps and into the townhouse.

Bro had been here before and knew where the office was. He made his way to the back of the house, where the door stood open.

Slick was sitting at his desk, and Bro was sort of surprised to see Karkat there too. He looked like he was all cried out, sitting in a chair against the wall behind his father. He was staring down at his lap, an expression Bro couldn’t quite see to read. 

“Have a seat,” Slick said, gesturing to the chair opposite his. Bro sat in resignation, not speaking. Slick picked up one of several knives strewn across the desk and flipped it open. He used the tip of the blade to clean under his fingernails as he spoke. “It took you long enough to get back.”

“I had to tie up some loose ends,” Bro said.

“I heard about that,” Slick leaned forward a bit, “You did good work. It’s what I woulda’ done if I was there.”

Bro didnt reply. He glanced at Karkat, who had tilted his head further down. He wondered if Karkat had told him about getting the other kids out or if Slick had just seen it on the news.

“Lemme get to the point. Karkat doesn’t feel safe after what happened to him. And I don’t want him to be scared. I want you work for me as his bodyguard.”

Bro raised his eyebrows. Sure, he’d thought Karkat might be hinting at that, but he’d sort of assumed that was off after he’d stormed out of the car like that. 

“Couldn’t one of your men do it?” Bro asked, not taking his eyes off Karkat, who was squirming slightly, seemingly pinned by Bro’s gaze.

“They’re all idiots, frankly,” Slick grumbled, twirling the knife between his fingers, “Karkat wants someone he feels safe with, and I can’t think of anyone he’d feel safer with than the guy who killed those bastards.”

Bro shifted in his seat. He hadn’t really been expecting this at all. At best he figured he’d get paid and get sent on his way, back to his crummy office. At worst he was expecting to get shot in the head in the basement, thrown in a furnace. He wished he could talk to Karkat alone, figure out what the hell he was playing at. But he’d had time to do that over the last week, and instead he’d continually fucked things up further.

He should refuse the job, just go back to watching hotels in his car. It would be like none of his had ever happened. Just another job in the rearview mirror. But he thought about what Karkat had said about a higher, more reliable paycheck. It was hard to pass up. He thought about the image of Karkat at the doorstep of the house. Small and alone...scared according to Slick. He didn’t blame the kid. When he knew first hand that he could be snatched right off the street and be put through that hell, it would be hard to ever feel truly safe again.

Bro knew he was the wrong man for the job. He and Karkat both knew it. “Alright. You’ll have to make me an offer before I accept, though,” Bro said. Karkat lifted his head to gape at him, and Bro kept his face towards Slick as he watched the troll out of the corner of his eye. 

Slick gave a cynical snort and jammed his knife into the desk, creating another divot in a host of holes in the wood surface. “Of course. And this is gonna take place of the rest of your payment, by the way.” He grabbed a scrap of paper and a pencil that was covered in teeth-marks, scrawling across it. He flicked it towards Bro, and Bro had to tilt it a few ways to interpret the chicken-scratch.

Once he figured it out though, it pretty much sealed the deal. “Yeah, okay. Sure. What kind of hours are we talking?” Karkat was chewing on his lip, looking as if maybe he was regretting his suggestion.

“Twenty-four seven,” Slick replied, “There’s a spare bedroom here you can use.” Bro wondered if this might be an absolutely terrible situation he was getting himself into. “Starting immediately.”

“Alright, I’ll just have to figure out some things with my current place. And close my office.”

“My guys’ll take care of that for you,” Slick said. “Keep your apartment, for storage.” 

Bro nodded. Shit. It had been years since he’d had a real boss. And never one whose son he’d fucked.

“Karkat,” Slick said, his voice softening immensely as he turned towards his son, “Why don’t you show Strider around the house?” Karkat tensed then nodded. He slipped off the chair and walked past Bro to the door. Bro stood up and followed him out of the office.

Karkat gave him a perfunctory tour, walking past rooms and rattling off their functions, probably refamiliarizing himself with his own home after a year. Bro noticed that he had put on Bro’s suit jacket again sometime after he’d first gone into the house. It must be absolutely filthy by now, having soaked up a bucketful of Karkat’s tears. Why the hell was he still hanging onto that thing?

“And this is probably the room Dad was talking about for you,” Karkat said, opening the door to a mostly empty room that had a few cardboard boxes stacked against the walls. 

“What the hell are you thinking?” Bro finally asked, shutting the door behind them. 

“What?” Karkat said defiantly, crossing his arms, though he looked a little uncertain.

“You think you want me hanging around you all the time?”

“Who cares? Just fucking do your job,” Karkat growled, “And if you screw up I’ll tell Dad about what you did.”

So that was it after all. Karkat was going to keep him around with that threat hanging over his head, a sort of blackmail pet. It sort of made sense. The kid had been under direct control of others for so long. He probably wanted to grab onto any opportunity he could to turn the tables, to feel like he had some agency, to get some kind of cosmic revenge.

Bro knew he probably deserved this sort of thing. He’d been a fuckup for most of his adult life, becoming an addict, losing his brother, doing some pretty heinous things to keep his pathetic existence going. So he just nodded. Fine.

“Oh, and if I ever catch you doing coke, same deal. You’re dead,” Karkat said, apparently testing out his newfound power. He still seemed a bit shaky, uncertain, scared even.

Bro nodded again. At least he didn’t have to make that decision himself anymore. It was going to be a tough road, but at least he had good motivation. He was going to have to delete that text message draft to his dealer as soon as possible.

“Now…” Karkat’s face was becoming slightly pink. He licked his lips, his breath becoming a nervous pant. “Kiss me.”

“What?” This was the very last thing Bro had expected. He was in deeper shit than he’d thought.

“You heard me.” Karkat snarled, stamping his foot. “I want you to kiss me right now or you’ll lose more than that fat paycheck my dad’s giving you.”

Bro swallowed. Fucking hell. He'd thought maybe he'd be kept on the straight and narrow, but it was clear now Karkat had a much darker, but equally precarious path in mind. At least he had plenty of incentive to behave himself, any misstep and Karkat would probably reveal any future dalliances as well. And despite all this, he found he didn't mind too much the prospect of being under Karkat's thumb. He leaned down. Karkat just glared at him, refusing to meet him halfway. Bro shut his eyes and pressed his lips into Karkat’s. 

\------------

He tasted like cigarette smoke. It was gross, but Karkat opened his mouth anyway, coaxing Bro’s lips apart as well to engage in something deeper and wetter. It was sloppy and he didn’t care. He dug his claws into Bro’s shoulders, pulling him closer. 

He could feel tears coming up again, even though it felt like he had absolutely no more to give. Because this was his first kiss. Kissing was strictly forbidden at the brothel, and he hadn’t even kissed Eridan because it wasn’t like that between them. This was Karkat’s real first kiss, and he knew he was throwing it away on this sleazeball addict he hated. But it still felt good, warm. Bro’s hands were around his waist and it felt safe. 

He pulled away and looked at Bro. He was frowning, brow furrowed, obviously confused. Karkat was too. He didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He wiped the tears away, telling himself this was the last time he was going to cry in front of Bro.

“Okay, now I’ll show you my room,” he said, turned on his heel to leave the room. He could hear Bro following behind him, and it was comforting to know he was there. He had his own personal bodyguard, attack dog, and fucktoy. No one was ever going to use Karkat again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this ended kind of abruptly. I just needed to finish it. I like this ending, though I would have liked to make the whole story lead up to it a little more. I'm not super happy with the story as a whole, though I really like the general plot. It feels really out of character, I think maybe I should try to rewrite it as an original story.
> 
> Well, anyway, I hope you enjoyed! I hope to get back to some lighter stuff in the future.


End file.
